Two Lads and a Lass Part One
by Hobbit Freak
Summary: Merry, Pippin and Estella are the best of friends. Merry and Estella are closer friends. Now what trouble can a Brandybuck, a Took and a Bolger get into? Plenty. This tells the untold parts of their lives.
1. An Accident and a Fight

Introduction

This is a quite a long story! I didn't intend to call this a fan-fiction, but *sigh* that, I suppose, is what it is. I started the first draft for this about three years ago on paper. I had no concept of what a fan-fiction was, or that people did them for that matter, so you could call this rather "untainted by rivalry." I am solely a Tolkien-aficionada and absolutely do not just go off of Peter Jackson's stuff. I mean, he had some good perceptions on some things, but you can never quite compare to what the mind imagines! Middle-Earth's fantasy, morals, virtues, etc. are limitless when you read, not just when you watch. This generation is blessed to have the movie "The Hobbit" not out yet (until December) so they could at least read it first and not have good literature spoilt. No, no, no, don't get me wrong, the movies are a good visual aid for those who appreciate Tolkien's work and understand them and their meaning, and I think the most important illustration of Middle-Earth in the movies were the characters. Disagree if you would like to, but I shall not yield. So to get to the point, Part One in Two Lads and a Lass is about the lives of young Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took and Estella Bolger. They are the main characters. Some other important characters are Fredregar (Fatty) Bolger, brother of Estella; Evrard Took, a wayward lad that doesn't know about his noble spirit; Theno Brownlock, Merry's seemingly only forever-antagonist; Frodo Baggins, Merry and Pippin's older and wiser mentor; Pearl, Pimpernel and Pervinca, Pippin's doting older sisters who pretend to be stern with him; Diamond Took, a distant relation to Merry and Pip: she could talk the head off of Morgoth himself. There are plenty of others in the story, but I thought that at least these ones should be mentioned. I will try to get the next chapter up when I can. I am not a people-pleaser and will not rush against my insights. The whole story would be ruined if I did that. Also, you can be assured that I will keep on writing even if I don't get a single review. This is basically for my enjoyment, but I would appreciate comments and criticism. I will listen to all commentary and regard and mull over it a bit, yet it will not change my way of writing. Plus, if anyone has any requests for the story, I will take those into consideration too, provided that they are rated **G, G, and G! **(Except for violence, I don't mind that too much, provided that it isn't _completely _absurd and gory. I mean, we are talking about hobbits here people.) If anyone wants to see illustrations for the fan-fiction, then I will have them up soon. I personally thought that my chapters were short, but compared to others, they seem to contain at least five stories within them! When Part Two comes along, it will be a lot more dramatic than Part One, as it will contain the Scouring of the Shire and the great tragedy of the Merry Brandybuck family. Anyone up for more after Part Two? If so, then I'll have a story named Eight's a Crowd posted. It's about the Travelers children, and it is getting to be a great fun to write! Well, I'll leave you now to read. Christ be with you; Hobbit Freak.

J.M.J

Two Lads And a Lass: PART ONE

Chapter One: An Accident And A Fight

Disclaimer: All names, places and persons are the invention of J.R.R Tolkien. I assume no recognition for anything besides the plot, and even half of that belongs to Tolkien.

"Ooh! Prickers again . . . Merry! Ma' legs hurt! Can we not go home?" Little Pippin whined, scratching as burrs clung to his clothing. "Are you some kind of a child, Peregrin Took? Merry retorted, perhaps a little harshly as he struggled with a particularly stubborn branch that was blocking his walking path. "Shall a lass out best you for the hundredth time?" Pippin kicked at toad hopping across the trail he and Merry had blazed in the woods in a rivalry, against Estella Bolger, their ever-present lass friend, who was constantly going on about competition. "I'm tired of carrying your hmm . . . let's see, your waistcoat, your overcoat, your hat, your scarf. What shall be next? Your very self, possibly?" Pippin irately huffed and puffed underneath the growing pile of clothing.

A drop of sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose. It was mid-August, and intolerably hot, especially if one is holding a pile of woolen clothes, trudging though a stuffy forest. "This isn't what you made it out to be, _as usual!"_ Peregrin grumbled, finally realizing that he had fallen for another one of Merry and Estella's scheming ideas. "As I said before; no thirteen year-old girl is going to beat her elder . . . what the duce are you hollering about now?" Merry exclaimed, thinking that his cousin could be utterly dramatic at times. He turned around from hacking brush down to see a mass of arms, legs and clothes on the ground. "Pippin!" Merry strode over to his cousin and started yanking coats and waistcoats off. One could tell that he was not in a tolerable mood for Tooks that made him lose to a girl by the force that used tearing the articles away from the heap.

"Mm-mm, hmm-mm-mm!" came a rather familiar voice from inside. "Es'! Where did _you_ come from?" Merry cried out in surprise at revealing a smiling Estella, brown hair and petticoats askew. He thrust a hand out to help her up, and she gripped it tightly, and Merry thought lass-hands an odd type of squashy feeling. "Oh, I just decided to drop in after winning the race." Estella nonchalantly grinned. Yet the lad could see the hidden gleam of proud victory in her amber eyes. Merry dropped her in the process of pulling her up, and she went back down, as gravity seems to work in Middle-Earth, too. A Pippin-sounding groan emitted from the bottom of the pile. "Literally . . ." it said. "How in the blazes did you get there that fast?" Merry demanded, his thoughts fogged up with the vision of Estella winning what he had set out be the victor of. She furrowed her brows, and her dark eyes grew darker. "Make an apology!" she requested, a sudden angry flush slaying her white cheeks. "For what?" Merry asked as zeal also sparked in his glance as he set his square jaw defiantly.

"For letting me go just like that! And poor Pippin underway!" The lass pointed to the limp furry feet sticking out from beneath her. "Do I have to get the whole lot proper, Ms. Bolger?" Merry shouted vocally, throwing his hands up in the air. Estella, looking hurt and startled by the abrupt shout, pushed herself up and slowly started to walk away. Merry realized he had let his passions get the better of him . . . again. For this was not the first time that he had made Estella upset by being resilient. He quickly went after her. "I'm sorry, Es'!" he pleaded; laying a hand on her shoulder as she sensitively stroked and clung to a nearby birch tree. Estella shrugged him away, and he noticed the livid tears collecting in her flashing eyes. "Please, Estella! I . . . I shouldn't have said such things. Forgive me?" No response. The caw of a crow up in a tree sounded ominous, and the yells of Pippin struggling to get himself untwisted were not.

"Would you come back home with us? You shouldn't be going alone, the sun's fading." Merry tried again to obtain forgiveness, yet received nothing but the cold shoulder. Estella shrugged without showing opinion, understanding that it would soon be night, and a lass alone in the woods in the darkness was a meal prospect for many of the hungry wolves that roved that countryside. Merry scolded himself quite severely inside for being so offensive in his speech to a lady. Especially if that lady just happened to be Essie. Merry was the only one in the Shire who could put her in tears, and he knew it, too. Estella was so strong and willful with everybody else when it came to her getting angry, yet when it was Merry, for some cause she only grew sad. Presently, and after coats and things were resumed to their proper places, and Pippin was thoroughly apologized to, the trio set off in what Merry _thought_ was east, but was actually west. They tramped and stumbled in one direction for about an hour, until everything was a deep blue, and the night was swiftly approaching; all the while Pippin gabbing on and on about the injustices of being sat upon, and Merry trying to win back the friendliness of Estella.

This only made her angrier. Night had now come, and Merry was lost, though he would never admit it, even if it came to having to do some realizing about the matter. Slowly, the trees began to twist into hideous forms in the hobbits' minds as the blanket of darkness enveloped the forest. Their gnarled branches seemed to stir stealthily in the summer breeze, as if lying in wait for someone to seize hold of. The orange moon that rose overhead was suddenly covered by clouds, and to make their fright worse, a peal of thunder rolled across the land, every rumble making their hearts skip a beat. Pippin swallowed hard, and he was ringing his hands together. "Merry lad, I think you missed the last few turns a while back!" he quivered as a hoot owl called out unseen. Pippin started, tripping over Merry's feet. "Oof! Th-that was on intention, you know."

"Right." Merry and Estella said in unison. The lad tried to cast a knowing smile at her, yet she only glared at him. "Meriadoc," Peregrin said, getting up and brushing his un-tucked blouse off, ", I really do think that we are hopelessly lost. Either that, or you are trying to pull something funny."

Merry tried to put on a jolly demeanor, though he knew that they were very much gone astray. "Pip, silly boy! We are on the right track, you can bet on that. I just chose the long way this time." Estella jumped as a bolt of lightning split across the sky, and hastily wrapping her arms around Merry's middle. He in turn shakily slipped his arm around her waist. Old quarrels were forgotten now; Estella was scared stiff, and Merry was trying to act as gallant as possible. "It . . . it'll be alright, Estella! We just need to get out of this forest, and we will be safe as if we were warming our feet in front of the fireplace in a safe and cozy hole. You'll see." Estella gave a worried smile and nodded. That is when the downpour of rain began. Pippin looked at Merry as if he was holding a pig instead of a lass. "You've _really_ done it this time, Meriadoc!" he reproached. Merry sighed. Estella sighed. Pippin even sighed. "So how would the lot of you like to spend a night in the _Leaky Tree Inn_?" Merry jibed, the driving rain streaming down his face in little squiggles and dripping off the ends of his curls.

"It would be better than having to bunk with you! You sleep talk so badly that I had to go and borrow Fatty's earmuffs!" Pippin exclaimed with a guffaw, taking the jacket around his waist and putting it over his head. "Oh, do dry up, Pippin!" Merry mumbled, grabbing Estella as she tripped on a root. He didn't want his blabbing cousin talking about his sleeping habits in front of Estella. "If you will be so kind as to stop the rain, then yes, I shall quickly dry up in a minute or two." Pippin was being _very_ cheeky indeed. Before this argument could go any farther, Estella abruptly stopped. "Oi, Es'. Can't jolly well stop here!" Pippin called back, intending to go on with or with out them. Alas since it was Pippin, he was too frightened to walk much further without Merry. Merry, on the other hand, was at the moment being a bit more sympathetic. Even to the whims of a mere lass. He looked down at her. "What is it, Es'?" he asked, trying to put some concern on his face. Estella strained to see ahead through the ever-pouring rain. "I . . . I just don't feel quite right about going any further." She said, brushing a pine tree branch out of her face.

"Remember what Farmer Brockhouse told us?" she asked, "Remember, he said that in some of his pine groves, he had found some type of hole in the ground. We should turn back." "Come now, Estella . . ." Merry began, but Estella loosed herself from him and took several steps further in to a grove of pines, assuring him that they'd better be safe than sorry.

"So far so good!" she called back. Merry rolled his eyes. "Es'! This is a waste of time! Of course it's all good; Farmer Brockhouse was just bluffing to get us out of his woods." Estella shook her head. Merry had almost convinced her to come back, and then she hurriedly decided to take one more step. She gave a short scream as the others herd some twigs snapping, and then she simply wasn't there anymore. The pine branches swung back in place, covering their view. Merry and Pippin took one look at each other, and then Merry cautiously walked up to the trees. As he peaked through the branches, all that he could see was a gaping hole filled with pitching murky water; Estella was not in sight. He began to take his heavy woolen coat off.

"Merry! Nobody in the Shire can swim!" Pippin yelled over another clap of thunder. Merry turned to Pippin and said with a dauntless smile, "And I'm from Buckland."

"Meriadoc! You'll get yourself killed. We should go for help!" Pippin pleaded, not wanting his friend to go into such danger. The young Brandybuck turned his angry gaze towards the other. "Get help? So that Estella can stay here and drown? Get help . . . my goodness Pippin! Sometimes you _can _be daft." He said, flinging his waistcoat aside. Before he slid down into the hole, he said sternly to Pippin, "Peregrin Took, under no circumstances are you to leave this very spot, understand? I might need your help before long. But I'll be blest if you could even have the wits to find a tree branch!" Pippin was aghast that he was by himself, so he held his head and turned in circles, muttering, "Oh dear, oh me, oh my!" Meanwhile, Merry had jumped into the hole of water, and it was deeper than he had expected. Most hobbits cannot swim; they hate the mere look of a large body of water. But the hobbits from Buckland were queer in lots of ways, and some of them would occasionally swim in the Brandywine. Meriadoc, some said, was the best swimmer of them all. _Oh bother! Estella, why did you have to go and fall into a bottomless hole? To get me to have to break my back trying to find you, that's why!_ He thought.

"Estella!" he shouted while treading water. A little wave came and dashed itself into Merry's face. He coughed and sputtered, whipping the wet hair out of his eyes with difficulty. "Estella!" he called again, thinking that he could not tread for very much longer; his legs were giving. Thinking that she might have gone to the bottom, Merry took the biggest breath that he could manage, and dove underneath the water. Deeper and deeper he swam, striving to touch some earth. Yet his ears had begun to pop, and there was no bottom that he could feel. _I need air!_ His mind desperately screamed to breathe. The murk looked as if beckoning him to stop straining his muscles and let go to sink to the depths. It would be so easy. Finally he pushed upwards with his legs, standing no longer the throb in his head. Merry was yanked immediately back down; his suspenders had snagged on a root. Yanking until they ripped, he frantically paddled to the top.

As he surfaced gasping for air, the young Brandybuck could barely make out a faint, "Over here!" He strained his eyes to adjust to the darkness after a recent flash of lightning had nearly blinded him. Barely making out a ledge, he pathetically swam over to it. "Hullo!" weakly said Estella, holding a hand out for Merry to pull himself up on. He grabbed it with enthusiasm. Once Merry had with great effort climbed up the slippery edge, he gave wry smile while trying to catch his breath. "We meet again, then! Whoo! Are you alright?" he asked, seeing Estella's tightly drawn lips and short breathing. "My left ankle caught a root on the way down, I imagine it's broken." Estella said with a twinge, clutching her leg. Merry bent over and examined her ankle; it was bent awkwardly to the right. He clucked and said, "Well, I'm doing more than imagining. It for sure is broken; just our luck, too!" he flopped down on his back, too weary to move or think.

Estella gritted her teeth as coursing pain went up her leg. Merry worriedly laid a hand on her shoulder; she did not shrug him off this time. Estella tried to seem cheery. "I'm . . . I'm fine, Merry. Don't worry ab-about me! You're probably overreacting, and I just have a simple sprain." Merry smiled at her pluck. "You know it's broken, Es'. I just hope we can find a way out of here before you become worse than you already are!" he said, wringing out his sleeve. "Why don't you lean up against something?" he suggested, taking his ripped suspenders off. Estella looked over at the wall of the hole with roots sticking out this way and that, and some earthworms squirming around. "I'd rather not . . ." she gulped, breathing quickly from the agony in her ankle. She gripped a broken root and squeezed it so firmly that her hand turned a bit blue. "Where . . . is Peregrin, by the way?" she asked with difficulty. Merry jerked a thumb upwards, rolling his eyes.

"Up there, going off the wall, most probably."

"You had better call for him; he can't take care . . . of himself very well." Estella gasped with a sob as the pain in her ankle grew more intense, and she was beginning to catch a chill. "Estella? Really, you must lie down or something!" Merry exclaimed. Estella shook her head, as she was determined to take care of herself. Alas, she sunk down finally with exhaustion. Merry placed her head on his lap and spoke to her. "Estella? Are you awake? My goodness! You're burning up!" Estella sighed, trying not to "make a baby" of herself. Yet she had never felt such an intense pain before; she could nearly feel bone against bone. "Yes, I suppose this rain has chilled me some. You're all wet too; try to keep warm so you don't get sick! My foot hurts awfully . . ." After a while of just being still, Estella whispered, "Merry?" "Yes?" he answered, endeavoring not to show that he had dozed off himself. "Are you going to leave?" she asked. "Perhaps in a while; I must go and find help. Pippin would have called down by now if he were still here and he doesn't know his way about the woods." Merry said gently, pushing the mud-spattered hair out of Estella's face. Estella moaned, and Merry hushed her. "Go to sleep, and if I'm not here when you awake, then just wait until I get back." Estella stirred and half opened her eyes. "You _will_ be back, though?" she asked, and a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye, and she wished it hadn't. "Yes. I promise I shall return, and I must find that fool of a Took. Sleep now, while you can, and don't trouble yourself about me." Estella closed her eyes to the sight of Merry smiling down at her, and slumber overtook her.

A comforting smell awoke Estella; she opened her eyes and wondered where she was. Golden light danced on her covers as shining through the leaves of a tree, and a breath of fresh air rustled her hair. "Why, I'm home!" she joyfully exclaimed as a great relief swept over her upon looking out of her familiar round window, and seeing familiar hobbits working in the barley crop. "Merry must've gone for help, and here I am!" Estella settled back into her pillows absolutely satisfied, trying not to think about her ankle, which felt rather numb. Just as her eyelids were slowly closing again, the door started creaking open, as if not to disturb the person inside. Estella quickly feigned sleep again, letting her head fall sideways. Somebody softly stepped closer. _I wonder who that is!_ She thought, forcing herself to not open her eyes. _Perhaps Father has come to see me . . . although that is a suspicion, since he has much work to attend to in the crops. _

The somebody suddenly laid a hand on Estella's forehead. "Thank goodness . . . her fever's gone!" Estella immediately knew it was Merry. Checking up on her . . . as expected. As his hand fell down the side of her face, Estella couldn't help but giggle. "Estella . . ." Merry said with a tone of good humor. She opened her eyes gradually with a broad grin, and started right off in hobbit-fashion, "Hullo! I'm in good health before you ask, and where is second breakfast, I might add? Proper clothing might be of use also!" Merry chuckled lightheartedly. "You seem to be patching up nicely! And in good spirits, too! I shall ask again whether you like it or not if you are feeling well." he said. Estella seemed all of a sudden to be very interested in the pattern on her quilt. "Thank you . . . I owe you." She whispered, regretting the slighting she had done to him the other day. Merry shrugged. "Does that mean you'll forgive me for my impolite behavior? I hope does." he said, patting her hand.

Estella's amber eyes grew large. "Of course I shall forgive you! I was such a dolt for being so wholly stubborn! Will you forgive me also?" she pleaded. Merry sighed at the thought of what relenting can do, and that he should do it more often, even if his whole spirit cried out for him to be obstinate. "Certainly, Es', did you know you . . ." "_Hullo!_ What _are_ you doing, Merry?" Merry winced at the sound of Pippin's voice; it meant certain humiliation. He quickly removed his hand from the kind pat he had given her, shaking it around as if he was in danger of catching a disease. "I was checking her pulse, what do you think I was doing, Peregrin? She's as sick as a dog! What did you want me to do; wait here until she was all sick n' gray looking?" Pippin smirked, coming further in. "All that I saw was you _holding hands!_" he cackled in his high, floating way. Merry felt his cheeks grow hot. "That is absurd, Pippin! Please don't go telling the others your version of this . . . I'm not fighting anyone unless . . ."

"Fighting!" Estella, who had been amused up until now, exclaimed.

Merry shot Pippin a heated glance. "No, no! There are these lads, and they are practically stumps compared to me," Here Pippin raised his arm above his head. ", they aren't anything to be worried about." Merry noticed Estella's nervous expression as she stared at Pippin's antics of pretending he was getting pummeled. Merry took the top of her head and turned it back towards himself. "Estella," he said with annoyance, ", don't believe that fool of a Took. I can take care of myself." Estella sighed. "Can you? Really? You and that ridiculous thing called honor! Why you lads don't act more like us girls, I really don't know." The corner of Merry's mouth slightly turned upwards as he turned the funny notion over in his mind until her realized that he was indeed a lad, and now had to go and act like one. "Well Estella, Pippin and I must be off now. So sleep a bit more, and," he bowed politely, as was required for etiquette of cousins to the forth degree, and she was a third one, "breakfast shall be brought in to you shortly." Estella grinned.

Pippin did a likewise bow, perhaps with a bit more flourish, saying, "And please beg for some wizard's trick for this fifteen-year-old who thinks he can . . ."

"PIPPIN!"

"Alright! I'm coming! Goodbye, Estella. I hope you feel better soon!"

Estella nodded and waved. Once outside the door, Merry shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "How many of them? And by the way, your big mouth is going to get you into a good deal of trouble some day, sir." he said. "I can't help it!" the very young Took exclaimed with a hint of a whine.

"You never can. I asked how many, Pip."

"I'd say five or so." Pippin responded, wincing at the thought of Merry getting battered again.

"Oh bother, not Theno again, is it?"

Pippin reluctantly nodded. Merry looked thoughtful for a moment, then after a while squared his shoulders and sucked his gut in.

"I'm going."

"Just go and hide until they leave, Merry!" Pippin begged, falling on his knees and clutching Merry's jacket-ends.

"No Pippin! You aren't supposed to run from your fears, as most do, but face them head on and defeat them."

"You aren't defeating anything; I can tell you that much Meriadoc! But you've always been like that. Too Fallowhidish." Pippin began. Merry looked out of a window that they walked past at the waiting group of lads outside.

"Peregrin, I may not come out on top, but I shall conquer in knowing that I did the right thing." He softly said, rubbing his square jaw as if already feeling the ache of a right undercut. Pippin cast his eyes downward. "But how do you know that it is the right thing to do? I mean, Estella never will know, and even if she did, she wouldn't want you to not do this." he mumbled, shuffling his feet. Merry turned away from the window and looked at Pippin. "How do you know that chopping firewood for Ms. Brownlock in the dead of winter is the right thing to do? She would not want you to do it, but it needs to be done. You yourself don't even want to do it, but does that change what's right? No. If you can overcome the part of you that wants to be weak, then you know what the right thing to do is." Pippin beamed up at his cousin, thinking that he was wise beyond measure, for that last bit he had spoken was very important-sounding indeed.

"Merry lad, I think, then, you _do_ need to do this, if it's the right thing to do."

Merry gave Pippin's shoulder a shove.

"Thanks. Are you going to watch me get pounded?"

Peregrin thought about it for a second, and then decided, "Yes. That would be the right thing to do. Oh yes, and please don't preach to me anymore, Meriadoc. Ma' sisters already pay me out for being born a lad." Merry chuckled and put his arm around his companion's shoulders. "Alright, Pippin. If you don't want preaching, then you're going to have to make a promise."

Pippin looked up at him, saying, "What kind of a promise? Anything for you, Merry." "Oh, nothing much . . . just stop being in every respect so stupidly lacking judgment that you're idiotic. Then I can stop preaching, and take a breath that is peaceful in knowing that you aren't out to kill, embarrass, mortify, bruise, give stitches, or very plainly fry my brain with your antics. Ah! It's alright, Pip," he said, patting the head of a still very clueless Peregrin, "Someday you'll be seventy, and by then maybe you'll have been tamed." And off they went towards the side door that led out into an old crop field. On reaching it, Merry slowly opened it. As soon as his face was in view, the bunch of lads outside stopped talking and put menacing looks on their faces. "Hey there lass-lover!" some jeered as he walked up before him, Pippin at his side. Merry didn't answer, but drew a line in the dust with his foot. "Who's first?" he asked, taking his waistcoat off and rolling up his sleeves coolly.

The rather large hobbit that was approaching just ripped his waistcoat off; buttons flew and Pippin gulped. "I am, sweet Merry-love! Unless you give up now and stop hanging around with dolly-playing girls!" This lad was obviously Theno. Merry sighed. "If you insist on having to do this the hard way, then so be it. But I shall not lose a good friend because of your jealously, perchance that is what your feeling." Theno seemed to rumble. "Have at it, then!" he furiously yelled. "And who are you?" he growled at noticing Pippin, knocking him over with one push. "Peregrin Took." Pippin feebly answered, clutching his cousin's hand hurriedly. He wanted to run, but thought better of it as he remembered what Merry had told him. "Ha! So you have a Took to follow you around, eh, Merry?" Theno obnoxiously laughed. "Are you going to spend all day poking fun at ten-year-olds, or are you going to get it over with?" Merry asked, doubling up his fists.

The fight had begun. Theno swung first, and his lot cheered. Merry ducked and gave him a wallop in the stomach, giving an open-mouthed smile to Pippin, who made a single hurrah. Theno was _not_ happy about the stomach; he was used to winning these things. And besides, Merry Brandybuck was too cheeky for his tastes. So he grabbed Merry by the middle and flipped him over on his front, knocking the wind out of him. Theno sat upon him, shoving his face into the dirt. "Say you love Estella Bolger, and you want to . . . hold hands." Theno apparently thought this was some kind of a smasher, since he looked over at the others and they cheered again, throwing their hats in the air and clapping. "This is so very animal . . ." Merry groaned, successfully earning a mouthful of dirt. "Say it!" Theno commanded. Merry chuckled, and he would have said it if the pride of a boy had not gotten in the way. "No." he answered with a smile that was ridiculously sweet.

Theno pounded his head into the dirt a couple of times, and then demanded again for him to say it. Merry now had a bloody lip, and it hurt to have a sixteen-year-old sitting on top of you. As he refused again and again, Theno roughed him up more and more until Merry finally had to give in. But he gave in with sauce. "Alright Theno! I don't think I can stand much more of your weight on my ribs; I caught a minor cold last night having a grand adventure. So I love Estella and I want to hold her hand. Satisfied? Like to hear stuff like that? Now shove off!" Theno was about to relent with many a taunt, when he had a better idea. "I shall, Mr. Mushy," Merry winced at the title ", when you promise to _show_ us!" A hot anger flared up in his chest at the thought of bringing these foolish lads into Estella's room, sick though she was, and humiliating himself. No. It was out of the question. Right now was one of those moments where he needed to overcome his weak side and do what was right; even if it meant a tender torso for a week.

"I shall not do anything of the like! I am the heir to the Mastership, and I won't take this from you anymore!" Merry yelled; his jokes were all spent. "Pippin!" he said. Pippin uncovered his eyes for a split second, and then plastered his hands back in front of them, whimpering, "Yes?" "See that lad, Theno?" Merry asked, struggling to get loose now that his temper had begun to blaze. Theno turned his head. "You mean that pipsqueak?" Pippin's teeth chattered noisily, alas he couldn't help but make a pun. "You mean _Pip_squeak!" Merry snickered at his friend's awful wit, saying in spite of it, "He can take your whole lot on! He is much stronger than he looks!" Theno laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. Pippin fainted and dropped down with a thud and Merry groaned. How did he know that that fool of a Took would swoon like a lass right when he needed him? "Well, he has . . . err . . . frequent convulsions. So if you don't want to catch that horrid disease, you might want to back away. _Achoo!_ Excuse me; I might be coming down with a touch of it!"

Theno rolled off of him, wiping his hands on his trousers. "What's a conpultion? Is he dead?" he questioned with wide, fearful eyes. Merry stood up, flexing his neck. "Mayhap in a week or two, he shall be. Sad story of how he caught . . ." Before Merry could say another word, the others were gone. "Ha! He laughed, setting his hands on his hips and savoring his cleverness. "Get up, Pippin!" he kicked at the sprawled out figure. Pippin groggily awoke. "Mum?" he murmured. "I am most certainly not!" Merry affirmed. Pippin sat up and rubbed his eyes. "I had a most horrible dream about you and . . ." he looked up and saw Merry's un-tucked, dirty blouse and bloody, yet victorious, face. "That wasn't a dream!" "State the evident, Pip." Merry said. "What?" Pippin scratched his head, confused as always. Merry suddenly realized that he was out in the open, and Mrs. Brandybuck could be looking out of any window. "I need to go and clean up before Mum sees me; I'll get a lecture."

"Ahhhhh . . . then thoo I thop this, Edthagar?"

"Just as soon as . . ."

"Ah! That hurths! Doh poke me, Thatty!"

"I didn't poke you!"

"Thy thoo I need to thoo this, anthythays? I'm thot thick!"

"Of course you're not thick, um, sick. I am just making sure before you get up."

Fredregar removed the tongue depressor from Estella's mouth. "You look alright, I guess." he said uncertainly as Estella stretched her stiff tongue.

"I am most very much fine, for your information! My ankle feels as good as gold." His sister smiled, flexing her ankle and peering down at it with concentration, her long and dark hair falling in front of her face. Fatty sighed, thinking that she very well might kill herself someday as he was a bit overprotective of his sister. Yet, he agreed to help her take her first steps in six weeks. Or requested to. "Well then, put your arm around me, and we will take it _slow_, mind you, slow!" Estella's heartbeat quickened as she swung her legs over and off the side of the bed. "How does it feel?" Fredregar asked as Estella stood up hesitantly. Estella put more weight on her foot, leaning to one side. "Feels good as ever to me, a bit new, if you get my meaning. Let me walk by myself, I don't need a nursemaid!"

Fredregar was reluctant to let her go, but he did as he realized she did not need to be cosseted. Estella took a deep breath, and then put out her left foot. She shakily took a step, gasping with the delight of being able to walk again. "Are you alright, Es'?" Fatty rushed to her side. Estella laughed, pushing him away.

"I'm _fine_, Fatty!"

She carefully walked over to the door, determined to make her way out alone. Fredregar opened the door for her, wringing his hands in anticipation. Estella started to feel a bit unsteady as she took a confidant stride out in to the hall. "Whoa!" she cried out, losing her balance altogether. Fredregar winced, waiting for the anticipated thud. But none came . . . laughter did, though.

He hurriedly stepped out from behind the door and saw Merry holding Estella up; their voices rang out in merriment. "Oh you were . . . ha, ha! . . . right in time!" Estella giggled. "Indeed! I had no idea that you were getting up and about this lovely morning!" Merry chuckled. "Mm-hm!" Fatty coughed from the doorway. Merry hastily set Estella up against the wall.

"Um, hello Fatty! I was just assisting your fascinating sister . . . see you later today Es', goodbye!"

And he left with a mock-serious nod to Fredregar and a wink to Estella. "Fascinating?" Fredregar mumbled. Estella shook her head and heaved an amused sigh.

"That scoundrel is in high spirits today! How _shall_ we survive when the harvesting is over and he is gone, Fatty?"

Fredregar scowled, straightening his jacket. "Very well, thank you! He _does_ live in Buckland, and you _do_ seem to make it over there at least twice a week." he huffed. Estella rolled her eyes.

"You are very much jealous, whether you like to admit it or not!"

She took a defiant step in advance and stumbled. Fatty rushed forward to assist her. "Are you alright?" he asked worriedly, his irritability nowhere to be found. "Very well, thank you!" Estella mocked her brother, furrowing her brows and setting her jaw, as he had done. To counter her remark, Fatty said, "You are very much in need of help, whether you like to admit it or not!" Estella and Fredregar looked at each other and laughed out loud.

"Come on Essie, I shall not begrudge Meriadoc for his fondness of you if you'll only let me help you to the kitchen, where you are sorely missed." Fatty said.

"Of course, Fredregar."

As soon as the words left her lips, Fredregar scooped her up like a baby.

"Fatty! This is . . ."

"Hush, can't I take care of you?" he gently reproached.

"You may, I'm sorry for being a pighead." Estella apologized, twisting her hair as they walked along. "You are nothing to do with a pig, Estella." He joked.

"I am so! The most pigheaded hobbit you will ever know." Estella tossed her head, almost proud of the fact.

"I can name someone who is worse!" Fatty said.

"Who so?"

"Meriadoc Brandybuck is ten times worse than . . ."

Estella's glare made him stop short.

"You said not another mean word! You promised!" she exclaimed. Fatty bit his lip to keep from saying something much worse about him, even though Merry was one of his very good friends, Merry was greatest friends with his sister as they were so much alike. "We are here at the kitchen; you can put me down now, Fredregar!" Estella said, worried that someone might see her being cradled.

"Okay, okay! Here you go, nice and easy like. It was good for me anyways; I need to work off some of my own."

Fatty gently set her on her feet. Estella wobbled and clutched his shoulders. She looked him in the eye, very gravely. "You _are_ fat, Fredregar." she said. Fredregar laughed jollily.

"You shall need to learn to re-walk all over again! Are you steady? Fine, just fine; see you around, Essie!"

And with that, Fatty went around the corner of the hall, most likely to go and search the far pantries for a pie. Estella sighed; she didn't feel like talking with the rest of the lasses in the kitchen, and she knew for certain that Melda was going to poke a great bit of fun at her.

"Stupid kitchens . . . I very much wish that I could leave unnoticed to those bothersome lasses." Estella said to herself, "Chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter and hearsay and giggle and blah, blah, blah. After a month and a half of that in my room, I want to go for a grand romp in the woods . . . no I don't. There might be another hole to fall down! Fishing sounds nice, but the look of that much water is sickening after that pit of the stuff. Ah-ha! Climbing up the rocks just out of the Marish! No, no! No ledges. Well, I suppose just a plain, simple, basic, boring, safe to Fatty's pleasure, stroll through the garden will suffice . . . by myself." "What about with a friend?" There came a small voice from behind. Estella whipped around, if clumsily. "Pippin! Hullo, I haven't seen much of you lately."

Pippin smiled sheepishly, turning his straw hat over in his hands as he had just come from harvesting. "Without a doubt, I wish could've visited you more often, but father's been pushing us harder these days so we can get home to Tuckborough earlier this year. But if you would like some company in the garden, then I would be much obliged, as I have the rest of the day off." His speech was unusually polite. Estella's face brightened. "The pleasure would be all mine! It shall be nice to talk with someone besides a lass, for a change." Once they were out in the garden, in full bloom with late summer roses and lilacs, Pippin mused, "So I should be right in guessing that your visitors were limited to mostly the lasses of the Marish? If so, that indeed is a tragedy." Estella plucked a blossom off of a rowan tree as they passed by its low-hanging branches, responding, "Yes . . . besides Fatty, that is. Merry has made himself inconspicuous these past weeks; I think he has something up his sleeve! But then again, Merry _always_ has something up his sleeve."

She smiled, sucking on the rowan blossom. Pippin quickly looked over and away at her. "Do . . . do you like it when people always have something up their sleeve, Es'?" he asked earnestly, his childish face twisted with some sort of bother. "Well . . . not usually. I like knowing about things beforehand! But Merry's practical jokes aren't your normal thing; as a rule they turn out to be surprises." Estella said, and was about to say more, when a pair of hands came down over her eyes. "I would love to hear you talk more about me, as always, but as I must speak to you alone for a moment, so you'll have to stop." The person behind her said in a jovial voice. Estella sighed. "Surprises indeed; two of them! Will you release me now?" she pleaded. "In a moment, you must brace yourself for more bolts from the blue! Now, Peregrin, thank you for excusing this pile of rubbish for disrupting you, but I must steal Estella for a moment."

Pippin nodded good-naturedly, trying to cover up his irritation that every time he seemed to be talking to Estella, Merry had to come and butt in. "Sure thing, Merry." He said, and then turned to Estella, looking up and lifting one of Merry's hands temporarily before leaving. "I hope we can walk again sometime before I head back to Tuckborough." Merry looked after him as he tipped his hat and skipped away. "Have you ever noticed something?" Estella said. "No, what?" The lad answered. "You are going to be the death of that boy." she clucked, feeling rather sorry that Merry had come; Pippin could be such an adorable ten-year-old at times. Merry exclaimed wholeheartedly that "being the death of that boy" would be a particularly pleasurable experience. When he had led Estella for a long distance, all the while with her eyes covered, Estella heard no more clinking of plowshares or whinnying of ponies, but the soft twitter of field swallows as a gentle breeze touched her cheek.

"Where in the world are we? And what is this _"bolt out of the blue"_ that you're going to show me? I have a slight feeling that you are up to no good!"

She could feel that they were on the edge of a steep hill, hearing the rocks crumble and fall as she shuffled her feet.

"I'm now guessing that you are going to push me off of the edge of a cliff . . . correct?"

Merry lifted his hands from her face. As Estella adjusted to the brightness of the day, a wide and sweeping highland opened before her, the shadows of clouds slowly moving across the fields of rippling grass. Far in the distance, one could see the village of Rushy, rays of sunlight streamed down upon the rolling hills dotted with little round doors and smoke from chimneys.

Even though she lived here, she had never known about this place, and it was a beautiful change from the dreary, thorny, wet landscape that was the usual for the Marish. Estella looked over at Merry saying quietly, "This is how I should like to remember the Shire for always . . . green and good." Merry nodded.

"Yes, you see, I have been coming here about everyday for a month now. Especially when things got rather tense with the lads fighting about me and all."

He slapped a hand over his mouth, realizing that he had let it run on too much. Estella scoffed, shoving Merry. "You said there was nothing like that going on! How could you feint to me?" she exclaimed, giving a hurt look. Merry, flustered, gave her a push back. It was a little too hard, as she leaned rearward, tottered on the edge of the hill, then fell backwards head over heels with a short scream.

"Oh bother . . ." Merry rolled his eyes and groaned at himself. Estella had apparently got to the bottom of the hill since she was now using old malicious Stoorish names for the Master of Buckland.

"Es'! Don't say such things!" Merry called down the hill, wincing at the reply he got. "Estella Bolger! That is not _polite!"_ He gasped, although his was really laughing tremendously inside. "Confusticate that girl . . . Whoa!" Merry tripped over his own feet while pacing about, and followed Estella down the hill. "Oof! Ow! Ouch! Ah! Ow! Help!" he cried out as he rolled over and over, finally crashing right into Estella and knocking her off of the feet that she had just got up on. "Hullo." Merry dismally moaned at getting a taste of his own medicine.

Merry quickly scrambled farther away. "Sorry, I'm sorry!" he apologized quickly. Estella flopped back down and sighed, "What am I going to do with you, Meriadoc? Pushing lasses down hills . . . your mother should know about this!"

"Forgive and forget, my dear. This lad is a sorry excuse for a friend, and he hopes that you will find it in your heart to pardon my foolhardy behavior."

Merry knelt down and struck his breast. Estella chuckled, "That _is_ pathetic . . ." Merry gave a mock gasp, fell down upon his back and tucked his head into his knees, claiming that he would never come out again. Estella threw a pebble at his head. "And I'm not forgiving you." She stated. Merry lifted an arm and opened an eye. "Estella, if you will not forgive me, I shall carry a heavy heart for eternity."

He then droned on and on about how he couldn't possibly imagine a life not being forgiven. Although Estella herself couldn't see this, as every farmer in Tuckborough despised him thoroughly. (He kept on very good terms with the Marish farmers, though!) "Oh stop being poetic!" The lass laughed. "I'm not forgiving you because there is nothing to forgive! You are not at fault; all you did was try and keep me from thinking that I was causing problems. And that push was just an accident . . . possibly."

"It was! It was! I promise! I suppose I don't know my own strength." Merry said, raising his eyebrows and flexing his arm. Estella shook her head, running a hand down her face. "Have your own opinion, but we must be back to my hole!" she exclaimed on seeing the late sun.

"By the Oldbucks, you are right! Can't miss supper, don't you know."

Merry jumped up upon his feet, pulled Estella up, and started up the hill.

As they walked along, wading through the wheat crops and talking about the agricultural prospects of that year, Merry unexpectedly came to a halt. "We can't stop here, slowpoke. What is it?" Estella asked, as a curious expression wandered across his face. "I felt some metal thing a moment ago." Merry said. Estella laughed lightly, saying, "What? Perhaps . . . oh I don't know . . . a horseshoe? Come on, Merry! We are already late enough as it is." Merry traced his steps backwards a few paces. "It didn't feel like a horseshoe or anything; it felt smooth and little." "Merry! If we stopped for every smooth and little metal thing, we should never reach home!" Estella protested. "Not here . . . not here, ah! There it is!" Merry shouted out, seeing something sparkling in the dirt. He stooped and picked it up. "What is it?" Estella called. Merry turned the thing over in his fingers. He whistled low as he saw that it was indeed far from a horseshoe or anything of the like; it was three beautiful sapphire stones set in a long, intertwining silver braid and had odd letters on it.

It hung on a lengthy chain of thin, yet sturdy make. Merry walked over to Estella, all the while inspecting the necklace. "Look at this, Es'." He said, opening his hand to reveal his discovery. Estella tenderly took it up off of his palm and held it up to the light. "It is very beautiful, Merry. How ever did you spot this?" As she handed the necklace back to the sharp-eyed Brandybuck, he said, "I have always had an eye for such things, and look at the writing on the silver." Merry held it closer to Estella's face. "I saw something like this in a book of Bilbo's the one time I was in Bag End." The girl said, nodding her head in remembrance. Merry started, too startled to speak at the moment.

"You . . . you saw his book?"

He swallowed, his face turning rather white. "Are you alright, Merry? You don't look well." Estella said, thinking that he got curiouser and curiouser every day. Yet this smacked of mystery.

"Is there something secret about it? Something secret about that green leather book?" she excitedly said. A look of relief passed over Merry's face. "Translations from the Elvish . . ." he muttered, knowing that Estella hadn't seen "The Book." "But here, where am I at?" he again said, smiling brightly, trying to cover up his pervious worry. "These letters are Elvish, the Tengwar, to be exact. I do not know what they say, as I am not learned in such matters. But my friend Frodo will know; he and his uncle are quite the odd ones! That reminds me, has your family received an invitation yet for the party?" "Yes, it will be wonderful to go to such a magnificent thing after this year's hard work. You lads have brought in an abundant harvest this year." But here she sighed. "Alas, mother is making me wear a corset to the party, something I am dreading! She says that I must wear green, yet doesn't everyone? So it is a bittersweet thing for a lass, going to a party!"

Merry seemed to be considering something for a moment. "Green . . . what shade, pray?" he inquired. Estella again looked startled, answering, "Well . . . a bright grass colored type, I suppose."

"Yes, that shall work." Merry said, and before Estella could say another thing, he took the elvish necklace and clasped it around her neck, and the long chain dropped limp. It shone pale and bright up against the dark trim on her bodice. "Perfect." Merry admired, stepping back for a better view. "Meriadoc, I couldn't, really, I am much too simple for such a thing!" Estella protested. "Simple maybe, and rather rough with too thick of eyebrows for one of your specimen." Merry smiled, running his fingers down the length of the silver braid. "Flattery does not become you, Merry."

Estella folded her arms and looked as if she would become _very_ angry _very_ soon. She at last stopped looking severe and laughed. "Alright you Brandybuck! Thank you once again for everything." And the lass reached over and grabbed his hand, pulling him along towards home and supper.


	2. The Party

J.M.J

brandibux rool: Thank, thank, and thank you! Your review made a bad day good, and brought one of those rare smiles to my face. I wanted to PM you, but you don't have an account. Oh, and sorry about the misspelling of Everard. I am farsighted, and the day I checked the genealogy tables I wasn't wearing my glasses. And you are right about the Fallohide thing too! My mistake. Please inform me if anything else is amiss. And this is just a wild guess . . . I assume you are a Catholic? If you write, you should get those stories up on here for us all to read! I'm sure you are a good writer. Well anyways, thank you for your great review!

Chapter Two: The Party

Estella hiked up her skirts as so the muddy ground wouldn't soil them; the Marish had gotten a surprise September downpour this year. The still warm wind from the south whipped her long braid about, nearly touching her apron strings. She was in deep thought at the moment about how she could escape this morning's appointment; corset fitting._ I should be more obliging to everyone on this matter. But I find that it seems to be a bit extravagant, I mean, my bodice is already very snug on me! A constricting corset will not be pleasant . . . and to think that it is all for "form!" Fatty says "small waists come with a price", but what would he know about such affairs?_ As if on cue, her brother's voice rang out through the wind, "Estella! You will catch your death of a cold if you keep on forgetting your cloak!" Estella mumbled a complaint, but nevertheless turned back in the direction of the front door.

Upon ascending the porch steps, Fredregar held out a deep blue cloak and hood as his teeth chattered uncontrollably. "How do you forget your cloak in this weather?" he asked, rubbing his shoulders. Estella snatched it away from him, rolling her eyes. "Fatty, how could you think it is cold out here? It is still warm, if wet, outside! You should be nice and toasty, you have enough layers." She started back out on her way, flinging the cloak over her shoulders, not bothering to clasp the throat. "Alright, Essie! Just make sure and keep yourself safe." Fatty called after her. Estella slowed down from her vigorous marching, not turning around, but yelling, "Thank you for thinking of me anyways!" She did not see it, but Fredregar gave a thankful smile that his sister finally understood. Estella swathed her cloak about her shoulders and drew the deep hood over her head. She approached the stables, and like their home, was buried underneath the side of a hill.

Swinging open the rusted gate that led inside, Estella stepped in the hay-strewn stable and latched the gate's lock. The ponies whinnied and tossed their manes. Estella shrunk back slightly, putting her hand back on the latch until they settled down again. Cautiously, she walked in between the rows of stalls, talking to the ponies with almost a military air. "You all know exactly why I am here! You there!" Estella poked a carrot at a short and bay-colored one. "You whinnied without being whinnied to first . . . you shall be duly punished by having to eat broccoli again! You will have flatulence! Understood? Good! Chins up, noses high, chests in! I'm going to be back you know so . . . DISSMISSED!" With that, she threw the carrot at the short pony's rear, it bucked, and Estella fled. As she trembled back towards the hole, she muttered, "I have no love for those animals . . . I don't understand how Merry cares for them so! They are ever so frightening when they do that uppity thing!"

Estella had decided to at least try and hide inside from her appointment for corset fitting; it was better than kicking and rearing beast-stables. So she warily crossed the threshold of their small, blue, round door, and hung her cloak on the last free peg on the coat rack, shutting the door with uncanny silence as all of the residences and guests of her home would surly alert her mother as to a new person's arrival.

_Creak . . . creak . . . creak . . . __**click!**_ Went the door; the click was teeth-grindingly loud. Estella groaned as the shrill voice of Melda Bolger-Boffin announced that she had heard the door. Estella made a run for it down the hall. Fatty stuck his head out of a door that flashed by, exclaiming, "_What_ in the _world?"_ Estella had just thought she was clear, and was heading for the back door when somebody decided to amble out of another passage right in front of her.

_Crash!_

Poor Everard Took didn't know what had hit him!

When Estella finally decided to open her eyes to see who she was sitting on, she saw not only a dumbfounded Everard, but a crowd of hobbits surrounding her. The crowning jewel of her embarrassment was a cackling and pointing Melda, and a disgusted Fredregar who was wagging his head back and forth. Estella swallowed hard. "Sorry Ev', that was an accident you know." she said, standing up with shaking legs. Everard laughed; his easy-going nature didn't allow for a sore attitude as well as a sore rump. "No, I'm quite fine on the contrary!" he cheerfully chuckled. "Always good for a laugh that Estella is!" Melda nastily snickered, elbowing Fredregar in the ribs. Everard frowned and shook a finger at her. "Don't be horrid; I've had about enough of your comments for one day alone, Ms. Bolger-Boffin!" he scolded in a soft and hesitant voice. Estella, in the meantime, was looking for an escape route via "away from appointment."

She casually walked away, or, at least to what she thought was away. Unfortunately for keen-eyed brothers, she was caught up by the collar and further humiliated, if not by intention. "Mother told me to make sure you got to your appointment on time, and the door to your sewing room is in the opposite direction. Off you go young miss!" Fredregar said, and with a shove ushered Estella further along towards the impending sewing room door that had almost seemed to have grown into the porthole to a tomb. Estella would have cherished the idea of ignoring the lot of them and going even back to the hideous ponies . . . alas the pride that had welled up inside of her like hot, boiling water that has reached the peak of overflowing was so intense that the hair on her feet stood on end. "Thank you, Fredregar Bolger, for informing me of my own business that is my own, and not yours last time I looked. But I shall go now, and all of you louts can argue on your own time, with respect. I have pressing business now, so there!"

Here she snapped in a most unladylike manner, and marched two doors down and entered one with a bang, making an aged copy of the Bolger family tree fall off the wall. Evrard whistled while Melda snorted and Fatty harrumphed, mentioning how it was time for luncheon. In the meantime, Estella's anger and cooled as she slammed the door behind her. The fond sight of her sewing room brought memories of planning escapades and explorations with her brother and cousins more than of stitching samplers in rocking chairs. The light danced off of the goldfish pond outside and reflected on the curved and smooth ceiling. She cautiously looked about the room for any signs of movement. For the briefest of moments, Estella thought she was in the clear; then an all too familiar head poked out from behind a long curtain at the end of the room, exclaiming, "_Essie!_ It is _too_ good to see you!"

"Bothers!" Estella grumbled under her breath and shifted her feet. "Hullo Mrs. Banks, all the same to you." She politely nodded while a trickle of sweat ran down the back of her neck; Mrs. Posy Banks always made her a slight bit nervous. Mrs. Banks rushed up to the edgy lass and nearly constricted her with an alarmingly strong embrace. "You've been . . . lifting tree trunks, Mrs. Banks?" Estella gasped. The portly lady was did not seem flattered by the remark, as she coughed suddenly and curtly motioned for Estella to follow her over to the long curtained off area. As Estella stepped behind the fluid drape and took in the fresh rain shower air that coursed from an open window that looked out into a flower garden; the morning-glories faces open and upturned to the rain that was now but a sprinkle. She was sorry about the comment she made to the stout lady. She _was_ the most merry person she knew, and all of the sudden it didn't seem fair for a cheeky lass to come and insult her.

But when Mrs. Banks had turned back to look toward Estella, her face was full of cheerfulness again, and all signs of annoyance were gone. "Well, my young lady, we do have some work to do!" she sang out, bustling about the area and making ready for measurements and fittings. Setting a stool out for Estella to step up on, Mrs. Banks sighed. "We are having so much rain it makes one want to go outside and tell the clouds to be on their way!" Estella turned her head to the window. "No," she said with a little smile, ", it makes the flowers more lovely than if the sunshine was cast upon them; and the world looks better sheathed in grey than in blue and gold. Everything looks closer together." Mrs. Banks gave a slight laugh as she wrapped a measuring string around Estella's shoulders. "I forgot that you Marish people like the stormy weather."

"Not stormy; cloudy." Estella corrected.

"Heavens me, yes! That's what I meant, dear." Mrs. Banks responded, sticking pins every which way in her bodice. She stepped back for a better look at her work. "Ah-ha!" she burst out suddenly. "I know just the size! Estella dear, please stay put just like this until I get back from town." Estella's mouth dropped rudely open. "Town? Why, that's nearly a mile away! Am I to stay like this?" she exclaimed, flapping her outstretched arms, yet immediately resuming to her position as the prick of pins burrowed into her skin.

"Ow!"

"Oh, you'll stay put alright, because if you move . . . _prick, prick, prick!_ Tootaloo, Essie!"

Mrs. Banks waved a hand in her direction as she slipped out of the curtain and out the door. "Hostage, is it?" Estella said through gritted teeth. "Oh well, I've seen worse. Holding up my arms for a whole day wouldn't be any sweat at all . . . I just hope it isn't a whole day!"

Pippin whistled a tune (it might have been invented by Frodo Baggins, as it contained a lot about things he knew nothing of, such as Tinuviel and Beren and other fairy tales) as he walked across the cotton field nonchalantly tipping his hat to the hobbits he passed by as he was trying to dodge work yet again. "Oi, will this summer heat never end?" Pippin thought aloud to himself. "It is September for heavens' sake!" Tenderly stepping around each cotton plant as to not scratch his arms bared to the elbow, he lifted his hat up and wiped wet curls off of his forehead. He huffed a sigh of complaint and stitched his expressive eyebrows together. "My nose is burnt! I'm hungry! My feet hurt! Why is it so hot?" Pippin whined, as ten year olds are apt to do. "I've had enough! I'm goin' inside! I hate working!" And off he stomped toward the Smials, not really caring if his new blouse _was_ getting torn or not, as it was ridiculous looking in his mind; it was made by his sisters.

Pippin dragged himself into his hole panting from "exertion." "Water!" he choked, falling to his knees in front of sisters as soon as he reached the kitchen. Poor deceived lasses . . . they went running around and bumping into one another to fetch a cup of water for their deprived little "pippin-bud." (This is where he obtained the nickname, as he was a very small and rosy babe to begin with.) As soon as Pimpernel had come rushing up with some sparkling clear water, Pippin hopefully mentioned, "Beer might have been better . . ."

"Well I never!" broke out in unanimity around the kitchen. "Shame you!" Pervinca scolded. "Asking for such things! What a cheek!"

Pippin gazed up innocently at his older sibling with round, amber eyes. "Oh Inca! I was just joking and all; I'm sorry!" Pervinca tried her very absolute hardest to remain stern with this little rouge, but the tears that were welling up in Pippin's eyes were just too much to bear.

She let out a sigh and set her hands upon her sides saying, "You are let off this time, Pip. Just don't let it happen ever . . ."

"Oh I won't, Pervinca! Swear double dang it on ma' heart I swear it!" Pippin burst out in such language as the Gaffer might have used on occasion of Sam being a ninnyhammer. Every lass in the place was stricken with scandal right then and there. If there was one lass in the Took family that had the absolute last say in anything it was Pearl Took, who just happened to be Pippin's eldest sister, and she wasn't exactly pleased to hear her brother whom she was trying to teach to be a gentlehobbit using such language. Pearl, who had made herself inconspicuous up until now, marched right up to Pippin and demanded to know when and where he had learned such atrocity. "Well . . ." Pippin dragged on, trying to think of a good victim to blame, as he knew full well that Merry had used stuff worse than that at least ten times a day. " . . . I had heard somebody sayin' something rather like it one time . . ." he used the first person that had popped into his brain, ". . . and it was, uh, Estella Bolger!"

"Who?" Pearl said, frowning. Pippin then realized that he had just blamed Estella, the one person who had always abhorred such vocabulary. He felt like a turncoat, a deserter, a double agent! "Estella Bolger couldn't have said anything of the like! She uses such polite speech." exclaimed Pimpernel. Pearl sternly locked gaze with her brother, who predictably cast his eyes downward.

"Did Estella really say those things, Peregrin Took?"

Pippin looked back up with a face that had the look of truth all over it. "Yes. She most certainly did." He lied. Pippin's heart sank as the words poured out of his lips. _Estella's going to kill me . . . Fatty's going to kill after he is done laughing! If there ever was a fool, it's me! _His sisters looked convinced enough, and they went on their way, gossiping about Estella and how just how much _some people _were influencing her. Pippin dragged his traitorous feet out of the kitchen, thinking that he would rather not see Estella, or . . . gulp, Fredregar!

"A little bit more leverage . . . yes! No! Wait! Oh no!"

"Frodo!" Merry yelled and rushed to uncover a pair of furry feet sticking out from underneath a fallen tent. Merry flung back the heavy cloth franticly.

"Frodo! Are you alri . . .?"

Frodo was laying there and laughing with his eyes all a-twinkle. "Oh Merry! How ridiculously funny! Oh, ha, ha!" he laughed. Merry raised his low eyebrows a little, reveling that his normally clear and keen eyes were a bit confused. "_What_ are you laughing about, my dear Frodo?" he asked, scratching his head. Frodo just chuckled some more. "Oh, hee, hee, ha . . . oh my." Clearing his throat and wiping the grin off of his face, Frodo pulled himself up. "Come, come Meriadoc. Let us have another go at this tent." He said. "Gobbledygook! Bollix! Twaddle-paddle! What was that? And what has got into you?" Merry exclaimed. Frodo avoided his gaze, picking up a tent pole. "When did you start using the Gaffer's language?" he grunted, hoisting the pole upright.

Merry gave an angry huff. "You know what I mean! What was all of that about?" Frodo shrugged. "Bilbo's effects seem to have been wearing off on me, Merry lad. That was a bit embarrassing, I must say! But I am getting older, you know." Young Master Baggins laughed.

"Pooh." Merry said. "This tent's a washout. We had better go and tidy ourselves up before . . ." here he glanced at his pocket watch. ". . . how disturbing! It's **seven** to the mark!" he yelled obnoxiously loud. "Seven!" Frodo cried, dropping the pole on his head.

"Ouch! That hurts!"

Merry watched himself in the mirror. From top to bottom, he gleamed perfection, and wasn't he pleased! His finest tweed trousers, brown and newly pressed; an embroidered blouse and a snug deep blue waistcoat with silk trim; an overcoat that was (he wouldn't admit it), made to button low so his waistcoat would show; _and_ a new hat to top it off! Plus he had actually washed and combed his hair and feet. For once, his head-hair didn't look windblown, neatly combed curls hung just wear they should; right at his chin. He stood on his heels briefly, pulling at his jacket collar. "Today I refuse to look unkempt. I'm a gentlehobbit at the moment." He laughed at the top of his voice as he said the words. Merry glanced out of the window at Bag-End at the growing number of people on the thriving party field. "Lethal! Double lethal!" he exclaimed, pressing his nose up against the window, for he had seen the cart of fireworks pass by.

"I am going to investigate!" he said, rushing out of the room. Once he was outside, he sharply rushed around the garden corner. He just almost crashed into a lass turning the bend, too. Merry tipped his hat, uttering an apology. The girl nodded. As Merry walked on his way, he slowed down to a stop. He turned on his heel. "Hey!" he shouted. The lass turned around as he went over to her. A closer investigation discovered that the girl was . . . Estella. _"Es'?_" Merry gawked at the unfamiliar sight. She was dressed in a light green dress, with open sleeves trimmed with gold. A bodice . . . no, it couldn't be a bodice, it was a . . . corset! A darker green corset met with the neckline with a bit of lace at her throat. Her dark hair lay over her shoulders, tied back in a ribbon and gleaming in the morning sun. But what caught Merry's attention was the elvish necklace, its blue sapphires glittering. "Hullo Merry! I have been wondering where you had got to. My! And I didn't recognize you in those sharp clothes!" Estella cheerfully said.

Merry was still in a daze. "Meriadoc, what is your problem?" Estella asked, placing her hand upon her hips. Merry shook himself awake, whistled very low, thrust his hands deep in his pockets and, turning around, started to shuffle away. Estella rolled her eyes and ran to catch up with him. She grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. "Me_rry!_ What on earth has got into you?" "Well, sorry Es', uh, but you look relatively surprising today, so, err, you rather caught me off ma' guard." Estella laughed out loud. "What? Me? _Surprising?_ Meriadoc, this is conservative! Well, weighed against what some other people are dressed at." Merry shrugged. "You usually have something brown and scratchy on," he rubbed his arms at the memory. "or that comical looking hood thing." Estella sulkily looked at the ground and hung her shoulders. "I wish I could have worn something of the like, but "good manners" insists that is not respectability, and I must be a model of stuffy propriety."

Merry chuckled softly. "You said it was conservative a minute ago; but I know what you mean. It is "fantastic conservative"." Estella looked to a certain extent mystified. "I think you are bizarre, Merry! My goodness, I must be on my . . ." here she stifled a laugh, ". . . business, but you now owe a dance tonight for stopping me." With a flounce of her skirt, she smartly walked away. _Dance!_ Merry thought in agony._ I can't dance! She knows I can't dance!_ Pulling the brim of his hat down with a jerk he muttered, "Dance!" and stomped away after the fireworks which he had probably lost altogether. Notwithstanding the fact remained that he had completely forgotten by now that he had promised Frodo to help set up some last touches, he jollily strolled along, whistling a tune and trying to forget about quick-paced dances that made your head spin from excitement or nausea or both, depending on what kind of a person you are.

So this is where we leave Meriadoc the hobbit, and where we go and find Peregrin Took. Poor Pippin. His sisters, if you remember, liked to treat him as a doll quite often, always dressing him up in some sort of concoction or another. So as this golden opportunity had come along for a chance to make their brother a new outfit, Pippin was now hiding underneath a cart and refusing to come into sight.

"Peregrin, come on out of there! You look just fine, for heaven's sake!" Pearl pleaded, looking under the cart with outstretched arms.

"No! This harassment has gone too far! Too far, I say again!" Pippin yelled loudly, clinging to a wheel well in case somebody tried to haul him out. After a few more minutes of this, Pearl was at her wit's end with this little bolshie hobbit. She was beginning to drop her temper.

"PIPPIN TOOK! I WILL NOT SAY THIS AGAIN . . . COME OUT THIS VERY SECOND!" Of course, the answer was an immediate, "No!"

"Do I have to come in there and spank you, young hobbit?" his sister shouted, her hair was now very askew.

Pippin gave a mock gasp. "_Spank_ me? What abuse, what violence! Will it be a bare-behind whipping?" he asked.

"I'll SHOW you violence my little spoiled brat, if you do not come out right now!" At that very moment, somebody softly tapped Pearl on the shoulder. Pearl whipped around with blazing eyes that calmed when she saw that it was only Merry Brandybuck. "Do you need some assistance, Pearl?" Merry asked, trying to control the smile that rang hilarity all over it. What an amusing person his cousin could be at times!

Pearl sat down on the edge of the cart and took in a deep breath. "Yes, Merry. Please do. I am going away before I kill my brother; have a nice day." With that, she wearily pulled herself up and went away to compose. After she was out of sight, Merry dove underneath the cart, coming face-to-face with Pippin. "Oh boy Peregrin, that was pure delight! Let's see it now; come on!" Pippin cautiously peeked out into the open. "Is there anybody in sight?" he asked with a flushed face. "No! I just wanna see it, Pip!" Merry exclaimed. So Pippin finally emerged . . . looking like the Titanic coming out the fog. Meriadoc, who had no tact whatsoever, broke out in simultaneous cackling. He fell down, beating the ground. Holding his sides and wiping tears, Merry pointed and pointed, but absolutely could not speak a word. "Oh . . . oh . . . Pip-Pip-Pip . . . oh hahahahahaha! Y-y-your hahaha oh heeheeheeheehahahaha! St-st-st- hahahaha so, hahaha STUPID!"

Pippin lividly clenched his fists with the reddest face you ever did see. "I don't care! I would rather go 'round in naught but ma' skin than in this millwheel!" he said, ripping off his hat that looked like the end of a pen. A rather fluffy pen. Merry stopped laughing for a moment and sat up. That classic light bulb had just flashed above his head . . . that is, if light bulbs are dark. "Alright Peregrin . . . you could borrow some of ma' work clothes if you have a mind." He said with a smirk. Pippin frowned and pulled off his frock, yes I just said frock, saying, "I shall NOT go in front of any lasses like this, nope, not even to Bag-End." Merry's smirk turned into a colossal grin. "I can go and get some shrubbery!" "Ma' stupid getup would stick out of any size of shrubbery . . . unless you had a _tree_." Pippin sighed. His cousin raised his eyebrows. Pippin's mouth dropped nearly to the ground. "You don't mean . . ." "Why not? Nobody's going to see you! You'll be a bush." Merry laughed. So that is how Peregrin Took came to be a walking bush on September the 22. I have heard rumors that some hobbits had thought that Bag-End was bewitched, as one of Sam Gamgee's prized bushes started to ascend the front porch.

"Shut up! I'm trying to listen . . . oh!"

"What?"

"You have got to hear this!"

"Let me listen."

"No! You have already had a fair turn."

"Fair! That wasn't fair . . ."

"Shut it!"

"What're they doing?"

"I don't know what they're _doing_, but I know what they're _saying."_

"Shove it!"

"No! Get off of me, you blockhead!"

"OH! That _was_ good!"

"Get off!"

"Did you hear that? It was good . . ."

"Your breath stinks. Get off."

"MY! That was even better!"

"Do you weigh as much as a horse? You're crushing me! Oh bother! Not Estella too! Uh! I can't breathe . . ."

"Hear that Es'?"

"Yes! It was very funny."

"Lock, stock and barrel! OH! Pippin's fainted, let's get off him."

"Very well . . . is he breathing?"

"Of _course_ he's breathing!"

"Oh good! For a second, _I_ wasn't breathing!"

"Why?"

"Well, because I thought Pip wasn't breathing."

"That would make you stop breathing?"

"Wouldn't it make you stop breathing?"

"No."

"How horrid!"

"What if I stopped breathing?"

"What if you stopped breathing what?"

"What would you do?"

"Shut it. Pippin's coming 'round again."

This was Meriadoc, Peregrin and Estella's normal conversation regular. They happened to be spying at the moment on Meliot Brandybuck and Everard Took, who were talking and dancing . . . the Buckland way. Nice n' slow. Pippin as now groggily awakening to two heads leaning over him; one anxious and the other annoyed. He looked for pity with the anxious face. "Oh, Estella! It's all going dark! I . . . I shall . . . depart this life." His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his eyes rolled up in his head. "Pippin!" Estella cried out, lifting up his limp head. Merry ran a hand down his face; this was torture. Pippin gave a long sigh and said that he supposed that he could _try_ and last a bit longer, as long as he wasn't inconveniencing the undertaker's time schedule. That caused quite the laughing uproar. Estella finally told both of them to be quiet and they had completely missed Meliot and Evrard, for they had moved to the other side of the tent.

"Well," Merry said, "There is one way we could _really_ get in on the discussion." The dark light bulb had just flashed again. "What? Hire a scout?" Pippin exclaimed. "No, you buffoon! Just this . . ." And he went on to tell his comrades his plan. Estella objected fiercely, and Pippin groaned at always having to do the petty work. So, a few minutes later, Merry and Estella were waltzing across the dance floor toward Meliot and Evrard. "Ouch! Stop it!" Estella said, glaring at Merry. "Stop what?" he asked. "Stepping on my feet! You _are_ from Buckland, and this _is_ the Oldbuck Circle. Watch out for that little lad!" The duo barely missed a little hobbit lad running around, chasing some thunderclaps that Gandalf had just lit for the youngsters amusement. Merry swerved to the left, trying to follow Everard's pace. He felt a trickle of sweat slip down the back of his neck. "We must really look a sight!" he groaned.

"Yes, we must, with your dancing skills." Estella smirked. Merry smiled at the thought of where he had put Pippin . . . in the quilting raffle tent to, um, err, "stand guard". Estella had been looking at their feet the entire time, and now she was hopping in the different odd directions Merry's were going. "Hey!" she suddenly shouted. "See! I can dodge your clumsy feet." Merry quizzically frowned. "I'm not _that_ bad. Sheesh, Essie!"

"You are, actually."

"I have to dodge _your_ feet too! I'll try that hopping bit."

Now Merry was truly doing the dance-that–made–your-head-spin-from-nausea-or-both.

If they would have been paying attention, they would have noticed Everard staring perplexedly at them, and a few gaffers making comments about young people. "Ha! How perpendicular that foot move was!" Estella laughed. Merry smiled. "Perhaps we should ponder on going slower. This has the looks of the Springle-Ring." He quietly laughed. Estella's face reddened. "Right! How embarrassing, for you, that is."

"What? For me? You started it by the way, Ms. Humbleness!" Merry said, and stopped hopping and started tripping again. "Pooh." Was Estella's only answer as she stuck her nose in the air. After a few more minutes of blatantly dancing about monotonously, they both were yawning and uninterested. "This is rather dreary . . . and where are Meliot and Everard? I hate dancing."

Merry moaned as he bumped into Celandine Brandybuck and Mentho Boffin. "Easy on the feet there, Merry!" Mentho called back with a joking face. Merry turned around to face him, mocking, "At least I don't have a _girl's_ name!" Estella only inaudibly laughed at the usual heckling between the lads that all came from the East Farthing. As a rule they always bantered around with each other, since the East Farthing hobbits were rather different from the rest of the Shire. After a few more pleasant minutes of listening to some more irony Merry and the others were having, Estella noticed Pervinca and Pimpernel Took staring at her rather coldly from the sidelines. She quickly withdrew her gaze from their sharp eyes. "Merry . . ." Estella tapped him on the shoulder as he was just about to make a terrific comeback to Ferdibrand Took. Merry looked down at her. "Yes? You might want to hurry it up; Ferdy is about to get the smasher." he said.

"I . . . I'd rather not dance anymore." Estella faltered, trying to rotate just so Merry blocked the view of Pervinca and Pimpernel. Merry looked puzzled. "I just beginning to be keen on this whole business!" he said, yet saw the uncomfortable look on Estella's face. "Alright Es', let's go and find Pippin then." He jollily exclaimed, in attempt to raise Estella's spirits, whatever may be bothering them. Estella looked relieved. As they passed by the Took girls on their way out, Pervinca called out snidely, "So Estella, do you like to teach little boys bad language?" Estella stopped, but did not turn around. Merry certainly did, though. Suddenly turning on his heel, he marched right over to Pervinca. "Beg pardon, but I think I misheard you." He said with some heat, setting his jaw with incisive blue eyes; the classic fury was just kicking in. Pimpernel smugly smiled and leaned to one side. "That's right. You didn't mishear her. Estella Bolger has been teaching our little brother some foulmouthed words, hasn't she Inca?"

"Oh yes, that's absolutely right, Nellie." Her sister said, nodding. Merry glanced from one to the other. "What, pray, are you even suggesting? That Estella has been saying vulgar things? Well, I'll tell you who has been teaching Pippin such things . . ." here he roughly thumped his chest, ". . . and that's me. Yes ladies, I, Merry Brandybuck has been speaking unrefined. So I shall not listen to anything about Estella except that she is completely perfect! Ha! So there!" And with that, he snapped in the lasses faces and whipped around to walk away.

"That doesn't make Estella not a rough little thing!"

Merry's collar then turned quite hot, and so did his face. He turned to really give the death eye to his cousins. It was sharp and very much un-Shirelike. "IF ANYONE EVEN SO MUCH AS **THINKS** A WRONG THING ABOUT ESTELLA, I SHALL PERSONALLY TURN THEM INSIDE OUT! EVEN IF YOU **ARE **LASSES!" He yelled, stomping over to Estella and leading her away as a crowd of bewildered hobbits that had seen the whole thing gawked on. As soon as they had gone outside of the tent, Estella spun around, burying her face into Merry's shoulder and sobbing. "Oh! I have never been so humiliated in my whole life!" she cried. "Where . . . where would they get an idea like that, Merry? Where?" she asked looking up as a tear oh-so-amusingly dripped off the end of her nose. Merry furrowed his brows together and brushed it away. "I don't know, Es', but I am planning a small talk with that Pippin boy right now."

The look on his face was harsh as he patted Estella and set her down on a nearby barrel. Estella sniffled, looking at her comrade.

"Manage you temper. Please." Was all that she said before he left fiercely to find Pippin. Estella sat there on her barrel and worried and wondered about all of the Tooks. At last she slid down with dried eyes and composed mind and glanced about her; no one was in sight, for she was sitting right out of the tent that backed up the party field.

"Oh poor Pippin . . . Merry has probably gone off a little too much on him, poor lad!" she said aloud to herself.

"Hey there! Looky what we got ourselves here." a sniping voice said unexpectedly.

Estella moaned with nuisance as she heard quickening footfalls approaching. She had reckoned by the sound of voices that it was the most obnoxious group of lads in the East Farthing, unfortunately all of them lived somewhere near the Bolger residence and had always caused a good deal of dilemma in the Marish.

"Oh Essie Bolger!" One of the tweenagers called out in a singsong tone. _Botherations! I'm going to have to face-up to the rascals this time . . . no escape route!_ Estella assumed, as they seemed to be rather surrounding her. Estella had at moment the briefest glancing reflection that perhaps these errr . . . fine gentlehobbits would leave her in somewhat peace if she would herself act the part of _ladyhobbit_, instead of challenging one of them to a brawl. So our hobbit in question smiled especially sweetly at the mischief-makers. One of the messy tow-headed younger lads scratched his head and said, "What's up with her?" Another shrugged at the utter confusion in his head. Estella now felt quite in control of the situation as these hobbits were very plainly a simple lot. She flashed that sparkling smile again at one clueless looking lad. Walking right up to him, she boldly tugged at his necktie with a cheeky wink. "My, my! Aren't we looking fine today, Moro!" Estella was then staring right into a mouth that had become a gaping hole.

"Uhh . . . what a big mouth!" She said cheerily, stepping over to another one and just started brilliantly smiling at him. Estella Bolger always knew how worm out of any situation, just like Merry had always told everyone.

"Listen . . . I'm sorry. I won't do it again!" Pippin squirmed under his cousin's piercing gaze, aimed right at destructing him, he thought. Merry grabbed up Pippin by the collar, hissing through gritted teeth, "There is a difference between 'Listen, I'm sorry I won't do it again blah, blah, blah', and for all intents and purposes doing it." Pippin, shaking all over, managed to make the shame sign and reprimand squeakily, "Temper, temper!" Merry dropped him and mumbled a few choice words. "Smarty, smarty!" Pippin again scolded, this time with a hint of a smirk. The fire cooled suddenly in Merry's eyes, and he sighed at remembering Estella's warning about keeping his temper. Pippin assumed that this meant his relation had relinquished his physical lecture, and he went on, "Yes, and you just _had_ to harangue me out here in front of all creation, which includes the lasses, mind you! Humph! If you want to make such a fuss about the matter, then you should go on and blame yourself. You _are_ the one who says all of those shameful things."

His nose went high up in the air with "righteous anger". Merry took a long, deep breath. "Very well, Mr. Took." He said with an air of haughtiness. "I shall go and publicly apologize with heartfelt warmth, which should be more than a bit touching to the Tooks and my relatives . . . excuse me Mr. Took? Laughing? No? Well, I shall show you the meaning of acting in a few short minutes. Oh stop it! I'm just as good a liar as you are!"

"Oh Rosa, isn't he _sniff_ just a repentant little lad as you ever did see?" Rosamunda nodded her head and blew her nose on a lace hankie that she had drawn out of her bodice. Meanwhile, Merry was in the center of a spread circle of hobbits, publicly decreeing his apology with hat in hands and misted eyes. "I . . . and I don't quite know how to make it right again," he sniveled pathetically, ", if only, perhaps, I just hadn't let those few vile words slip from one of the most untrustworthy, deceitful, falsehearted . . ." Here he paused to dramatically dab at his eyes with the back of his hand, ". . . well, all I ask for is forgiveness for this low, treacherous, _stupid_ . . ."

Merry's testimony of being a deceitful liar, (Which was really the fact at the moment), was rudely interrupted by an audacious snort from the sidelines, followed by a quite audible, "Is he _drunk?"_ Merry's face grew quite red. Estella's voice could be detected just about anywhere; it had two most common tones; charming and clear when happy, scornful and heated when angry. Like now. When Merry's little confession was over, and the hugs and thank-yous, he went up to Estella who had been standing by rolling her eyes. "Well miss," he began when alone with her, ", what was that bit for . . . I apparently apologized to you!" Estella groaned. "True: so apparently that it made me 'ead hurt!" Merry looked down on the little hobbit, and thought that she acted too solemn for her age. And perhaps a bit older. "Aright." He finally relented after a few edgy moments of eye-to-eye combat with a, "You win! I shall now accordingly act contrite . . . like a Brandybuck." He winked.

Estella suddenly gasped. "What?" Merry asked harmlessly. "I didn't really mean I was going to-."

"No! Look!" Estella laughed, turning him around. Merry's eyes danced with boyish glee as he watched an enormous firework crackle and disintegrate in what was seemingly right in front of his face. "Lethal! _Triple lethal!"_ he shouted, whooping and hollering at the top of his lungs. Estella was still laughing at him . . . not exactly with him. One after another, they kept rocketing up towards the heavens and shattering into a million tiny embers. After a while, the two hobbits had sat down on the grass and watched the explosions, every so often giving a commentary on a particularly beautiful one. And as it would be, just as Merry had completely calmed himself with some Old Toby, and Estella was placidly explaining the corset episode, the lad saw something that caught his eye.

"Hey Es'." He said, poking Estella with the end of his pipe.

"What is it? And don't singe me."

"Look up there; see that one firework headed south?" Merry said, pointing at a flaming sphere headed in a lopsided direction.

"Certain; what of it?"

Merry squinted and strained his eyes to see clearer.

"I . . . I think that it's . . ."

The now crackling ball had turned at a sharp angle and was headed straight towards them.

"Es', you might want to . . . RUN!"

Yet it was too late to run, for the firework had reached a high level of speed. The hobbits ducked and covered in an attempt to shield themselves from the exploding reports that whistled around their heads with loud hisses and sputters, ending with a loud and final roaring BOOM. Estella, after the smoke had cleared, precariously stood on her shaking feet. "M-Merr-ry?" she faltered.

"Oo! Ah! Ow! Es'! Come put it out! Ouch!"

Estella barely made out a dim figure through the haze. Staggering over to it, she saw that Merry was whacking at his rear end, which was on fire.

"Don't just stand there; DO SOMETHING!" he yelled through a face bursting with pain. Estella franticly took the folds in her skirt and extinguished the blaze; yet Merry's trousers were still as hot as embers.

"By ma' grandmother's father's second cousin twice removed on his mother's side . . . _this hurts!"_

Estella censored her urge to laugh at the hobbit who had been so confident just moments ago, and who was now hopping about as if his pants were on fire . . . which they were. Estella gravely patted poor Merry's arm. "It'll be alright Merry lad. I can tell you how take care of a burned . . ." "No!" Merry quickly interjected, blushing from head to furry foot. As he turned to face her, he noticed a long burn running down her cheek.

"Why Estella! You've got yourself a first-class burn there!" he said, taking an admiring look at the wound. _"What?"_ Estella shrieked, touching her cheek, yet withdrawing at the feel of pain.

"Not first-class for me, Meriadoc! This will scar terribly, and my looks will never be the same."

Merry, still examining the burn with high regard, said nonchalantly, "Oh I wouldn't care if you had a face full of em'. I wish I had some more ma'self!"

Estella scoffed. "Pooh to you and your love of warmongering, Merry!"

"Warmongering!" Merry cut in with alarm.

"Yes! Who wants scars anyways?" The lass inquired with dignity. Merry raised his hand, saying, "I want one . . ." he leaned closer, whispering, ". . . right here!" He made his finger into a hook and slashed it across his forehead, right above the brows. Estella giggled, "Brown and jagged!" Merry widened his eyes. "When it's healed, that is. But before that, it will be bloody and terrible!" he yelled, quickly poking Estella's side as to scare her.

She shrieked and jumped, and started laughing in good humor, despite her burn. "Alright, Mr. Brandybuck!" she finally said after a few more minutes of teasing. "That's enough of that! I dare say that Frodo will be wondering where you are! The speech is in . . ." She reached into Merry's breast-pocket and withdrew a pocket watch. ". . . Nine o' clock! My goodness, you'd best be on your way." Merry grumbled with annoyance at having yet another responsibility. "Well, come on then, Es'. We must be on our way!" he said, straightening his waistcoat. Estella gave a small sigh, saying, "Um, no Merry. You see . . . I had gotten into this predicament when you had left to find Pippin, and well, lets just say that I can't . . . go, um, errr, . . . to the um, speech." She finished lamely. Merry looked confused; what kind of trouble had she gotten into without him?

Upon seeing Merry's bewilderment, Estella gently patted his shoulder. "It was a trade; my spot at the speech for . . . never mind that." She said softly. "But . . ." Merry began, yet Estella hushed him with a wave of her hand.

"Go! You're going to be late."

So Merry, (tying his jacket around his waist so as the burnt seat of his pants wouldn't show), jogged off towards Bilbo's speech. As he arrived at the biggest of all the brightly colored tents, Merry stopped to take in the lovely atmosphere. Inside, the tent was gaily glowing with light, and the din of laughter and merriment rang out just as welcoming as if it was your very own hole, and your family was waiting for you within.

This was the kind of thing Merry liked, and he would have been completely happy . . . if only Estella would have been there. To him festivities and celebrations should be spent with friends and family, all together in a closed-up space, with lots of food! But now the laughter did not seem so pleasant, nor the warm light so inviting with no one at his side. He had neither Estella nor Pippin with him; who knew where that loveable little Took was at the moment? So Merry dully moseyed in to the tent, his eyes wondering around for a close-to-heart face. They finally rested upon the one person that he knew to have a level-head . . . Rory Brandybuck. Merry's face lit up as he spotted his grandfather sitting down by his mother. The older hobbit's face was careworn with creases, and his back slightly stooped with work. Yet there was a twinkle in his keen blue eyes, and an unexpected sauciness to the way he held himself.

"Hullo, Grandad!" Merry greeted cheerfully, sitting down on the bench next to his grandsire. Rory turned his gray-curled head towards the brown that faced him, both windblown and unkempt. His eyebrows shot up. "What's this? Merry-hooligan has actually come to an event _on time?_ When did you get so dependable?" His grandfather teased, flicking his grandson on the head. Reaching out an arm to grab a mug of ale that didn't belong to him, Merry answered, "Aye, it wasn't me. Essie Bolger made me go." His voice drowned out in the mug, echoes of pure delight emitting from the upturned ale. "Eh? Taking a fancy to a Marish lass?" Rory chuckled. Merry choked on his drink, sputtering, "Fancy? No indeed! We're friends!"

"She's a pretty one, lad!" His grandfather still teased.

"Aye, no! I shan't hear any more a' that nonsense!" Mrs. Brandybuck suddenly cut in, wagging a finger. Rory twisted around to face his daughter-in-law.

"Hey? What's this? Don't take ta' chitchat, Esmeralda?" he said, squinting an eye as if to challenge the remark. Esmeralda cocked a head at the old hobbit. "No, I most certainly do not! Miss Bolger is not quite the illustration of what a young hobbit lass should be." Merry stopped squirming around to lower the pain in his nether region. "What was that, Mother?" he asked, quite appalled that his mother should say something like that. "You heard me Meriadoc. She's nothing but trouble, as I've said before." Esmeralda answered back with a toss of her hair. "But . . . but so am I Mother! And you don't call _me _nonsense!" Her son pleaded in what was rather a shocked voice. Rory piped up, too. "Aye! I say that ya' should give us some good reasons why Merry here shouldn't go a-marryin' Estella!" Merry's eyes grew large. "Grandad! Marry? Why, I'm only fifteen! It'll be nineteen more years until _that_ is a . . ."

His grandfather elbowed him in the ribs. _Why! It almost looks as if he _wants_ it to happen! _Merry thought, with a sudden distaste for meddling grandfathers. Now that he thought of it, his Grandad had always taken a liking to Estella. Or perhaps he just had a soft spot for lasses that always brought him 1324 for a Yule present. As the bickering went on between his two relatives, Merry sat back and remembered back to last Yule, when all the Tooks had gathered together for the holidays at the Smials . . .

"_Here you are, Mr. Brandybuck!" Estella handed Rory Brandybuck some of the Bolger Vintage Wine in a tall mug. "Aye, lass! That goes down good!" he said contentedly after a few swigs. Estella giggled, and then went over to sit down by Merry, who was placidity reading a book by the fireplace on his stomach. As Estella quietly took a seat by the young lad, she brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them tight. She could hear him grunt uncomfortably and shift, not looking up. She then said in an undertone, "Why do you hate me, Merry?" Merry looked up from his reading; the firelight flickered pale orange on his face. He looked straight into Estella's brown eyes that reflected the fire murkily. Just as something was about to come out, he changed his mind, mumbling, "I don't know what you're talking about." A soft breath escaped Estella's lips, and she hastily turned back to face the blaze with tears in her eyes. _I thought he would have changed his mind about me by this year!_ She thought regretfully, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve, angered at her weak spot. _

_Slowly she realized that all she wanted was for Merry to call her his friend, just like he did with little Pippin. Maybe not as close knit, but oh! Just to be called his friend! Meanwhile, Merry was telling himself off inwardly that he should just buck up enough courage to tell Estella that he wanted to be friends. Yet every time he was about to say it, memories of their past fights popped up, and he couldn't get the words out. She was as much an annoyance as much as she was noble. Sighing, he moodily closed his book with a thud, inching back into a sitting position. Estella stole a last sideways glance at him, and then slowly pulled herself up to go to bed. Just as she was about to leave the room, Merry called out for her to stop, after making sure his grandfather was snoring. Estella's heart sank, thinking that he was coming over to inform her of a fault again. She heard his soft footsteps approaching from behind. "Estella . . ." he rumored nervously, pulling at a curl in his hair. "If . . . if you don't mind, I'd like to apologize for my past behavior . . . and, um, I'd like to . . . for heaven's sake! What I'm trying to say is that I'd like to call you ma' friend. And that's all I have to say." _

_Estella's eyebrows slowly and surely rose up her forehead. Suddenly a radiant smile widened across her face, and she cast her grateful gaze into Merry's apologetic one. Estella laughed merrily, embracing the lad in a warm hug while jumping about with excitement. "Alright! Alright! I said I wanted to be your friend, not cuddle you!" Merry exclaimed, good-humoredly squirming out of Estella's embrace. _

"What do ya' say ta that, Merry lad?" Merry shook himself out of his dreaming. "Huh?" he murmured, not really wanting to leave his contemplations.

"Sorry, Grandad! I got distracted. My compunctions."

The old hobbit leaned forward warily, casting his eyes from side to side. "If I were ya', lad," he said in an undertone, "I wouldn't let that Estella out of your sight! There's certain people here that don't want it to happen." If Merry's eyes were large before, than they were bugging out of his head now. "What's . . . _it?"_ He asked, almost too afraid to do so. The only thing that is grandfather did was elbow him knowingly in the ribs and say, "Just keep her as ol' greedy Grubb keeps his money locked tight. Jus' hold her tight is all." The young hobbit tried to chuckle nervously, yet it only came out in tiny squeaks.

"That rather made me want to be sick, sir." He gagged, trying not to weigh up the notion. Just as Rory was about to answer with some more "advice", (gulp), Bilbo began his legendary speech. "My dear people!" Bilbo cried out in a loud voice, raising a hand in the air to catch the crowd's attention. "Hear! Hear! Hear!" The hobbits shouted deafeningly, pounding the table tops. "Bilbo! Speech!" Merry joined in, raising the stolen mug of ale, which the hobbit to which it belonged snatched away. Merry frowned. As he turned back to Bilbo, he saw that he had gotten up on a chair, the lantern glow making him look merrier than usual. His hand was still waving around like an unhinged window-shutter, and his other was shoved in his pocket. Bilbo started out addressing the families in cordial tone, "My dear Bagginses and Boffins," the Bagginses clapped politely, and some of the Boffins stood and gave a few deep bows. ", and my dear Tooks and Brandybucks,"

Many of the Tooks stood up and either wildly shouted their thanks, started brazenly dancing and blowing horns, or grabbed and kissed a Brandybuck. The Brandybucks, on the other hand, sat still and thanked kind cousin Bilbo without any Tookish nonsense. Bilbo slightly shook his head and continued, ", Grubbs and Chubbs, and Burrowses," Many of the well-renowned for prettiness Burrows lasses haughtily shook their curls and clapped for themselves, ", and Hornblowers," comically contrasting, many small toots on horns sounded to Rory's amusement, he had never liked Hornblowers. ", and Bolgers," Merry's cheery attitude sunk at the mention of Bolgers. He could just see Estella getting up upon her own chair and shouting, _As to you, Uncle Bilbo! And don't forget it!_ He sighed tremendously, attracting a Brockhouse's attention who was sitting by him. (In fact the one who he had took the ale from).

Rory told him to look elsewhere, for his grandson just had a slight tough of the flu. Toby Brockhouse moved five seats away. Brandybucks were always saying that they had some sort of illness or ailment when they wanted to be left alone. Bilbo continued, ", Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots." "PROUD**FEET!"** roared an old hobbit sitting behind Merry so loud that he winced and covered his ears. "Proudfoots." Merry irately whispered to his grandfather, who agreed with a firm shake of his gray head and a hurrah for the intelligence of Brandybucks. They both laughed as Bilbo slightly bowed and repeated, "Proudfoots.", looking very much like a Baggins. "Also my good Sackville-Bagginses that I welcome back at last to Bag End."

"Ha!" came a rather rude grunt from Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

Bilbo, being the very fine gentlehobbit he was, ignored the lady completely. "Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday: I am eleventy-one today!"

All hobbits cheered and hammered and cried out, "Hurray! Hurray! Many Happy Returns! Long Live Bilbo Baggins!" Rory clapped and nudged Esmeralda, who wasn't speaking to him at the moment. _"Now_ what do ya think about Master Bilbo, eh?" Merry's mother politely clapped, pleased that there was no rambling about dragons, mountains and dwarves. This speech was hobbit-compatible; short and obvious. "I must say," she said in a somewhat satisfied tone, ", his speech is going along very well indeed. No silly hogwash about adventures and whatnot." Esmeralda fluffed her hair knowingly. Merry rolled his eyes. "Aye!" his grandfather exclaimed, thumping him on the head, "No disrespecting of the elders, now!" He looked back to Bilbo with a chuckle. "Ye old liverbrained brute . . ." the lad muttered under his breath, earning another thump on the top of his head. "Sit still an' don't be disturbing the peace with your Took bunkum!" Rory said, then added to himself, "I don't know why that Saradoc to go an' get him a Took wife. He should have married a nice quiet Chubb, not this here Took lassie."

Once again, Esmeralda was not speaking to the old hobbit. Bilbo then told the crowd, "I hope you all are enjoying yourselves as much as I am!" Deafening cheers and applauds. There were many shouts of "Yes!" Also a few, "No!" coming from the Sackville-Bagginses and young impish Tooks. (Although the young hobbits were enjoying the party immensely.) Suddenly, the tent was filled with the sound of trumpets, horns, pipes, flutes and other musical instruments. For many crackers had been pulled, and inside there was nothing other than small instruments made by the Men of Dale, and were marked accordingly. Although this conveyed nothing to most hobbits, yet they each and every one agreed that they were completely marvelous crackers. Therefore, many of the youthful hobbits decided to get together an impromptu orchestra, and began a merry dance-tune, supposing Uncle Bilbo to be finished with his speech.

And as excitable as a Took can be, and as bold as a Brandybuck is, it seemed that Everard and Meliot had gotten up upon a tabletop and were dancing –of all dances- the Springle-Ring. Merry smiled to himself smugly, noting that Estella and his speculations about Everard and his Brandybuck lass were right. "Ev, you've got it coming to you soon!" he whispered with that complacent, mischievous spark in his blue eyes. Yet, it seemed that Bilbo was not at all finished. Bilbo looked around testily for some noise-making item to catch the multitude's attention again. He finally saw a horn in the hand of a small lad, and snatched it away. The hobbits all jumped at the sound of the horn blasting three loud hoots. The noise subsided. "I shall not keep you long!" he cried. Again, plenty of cheers from the assembly. "I have called you all together for _a Purpose."_ Something, maybe, perhaps nothing at all, just the slightest bit of difference in Bilbo's tone, made every one of the hobbits stop and pay attention.

Some of the Tooks actually pricked up their ears. Mr. Baggins went on in the odd manner, "Indeed, for Three Purposes! First of all, to tell you that I am immensely fond of you all, and that eleventy-one years is too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits." Tremendous shouts of approval. "I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve." He said with utter nonchalance, which mattered not, as most of them found this very difficult and hard to understand. "Oi!" said Esmeralda, looking more than a bit heated, as she was wont to do when flustered. "Does it come to a kind word? Or was that a bit of his elvish stuff?" The two generations of Masters only sat there with their square jaws resting in their palms, one eye open in a slapdash fashion, muttering on that they hoped that they were a _half-known, _not_ half-liked_ sort of person.

"Secondly," Bilbo said, ", to celebrate my birthday." He paused for the shouts of approval. "I should say: _our_ birthday: for it is, of course, also the birthday of my heir and nephew, Frodo. He comes of age and into his inheritance today." Some perfunctory clapping by the elders; and some loud shouts of, "Frodo! Frodo! Jolly old Frodo!" from the juniors. The Sackville-Bagginses were, to Frodo's silent amusement, scowling at the mention of "inheritance". "Together we score one hundred and forty-four. Your numbers were chosen to fit this remarkable total: One Gross, if I may use the expression." No cheers. More than a few of the guests, and especiallythe Sackville-Bagginses, were slighted, feeling convinced that they had only been asked to fill up the required number, like goods in a package. Scoffing audibly, Esmeralda exclaimed, "One Gross indeed! Vulgar expression." Merry's thoughts rapidly changed from lazy to sharp and aware. His eyes were now keenly watching Bilbo's every motion. Something had changed in Mr. Bagginses' manner, and Meriadoc sensed that something out of the ordinary was going to happen very soon. Something to do with what he had seen about a year ago, on one lovely October day . . . . . .

_As he walked up the road leading to Bag-End, Merry Brandybuck whistled a favorite tune, the liquid-like melody filling his ears. He was not quite satisfied with the air_ _of it all, as his hearing was fine-tuned from playing on the violoncello often. (That is, often against his will.) He shivered as one of the first chilled breezes of the season came and smacked him right in the face. As he pulled his scarf up over his chin to gain some warmth back, he noticed that there were some people approaching from ahead. "Sackville-Bagginses! Bother!" Yet at that moment, his acquaintance Bilbo Baggins hurriedly passed him wide, apparently not noticing the lad. Or the Sackville-Bagginses for that matter. And when he did, there wasn't polite words uttered from his mouth about the detested couple. Merry snickered to himself, and was about to say, "Hullo Bilbo!" when the old hobbit took a golden ring out of his pocket, slipped it on, and HEY PRESTO! Bilbo was simply not there anymore. _

_Meriadoc's mouth opened and his eyes got bigger and bigger and bigger, until at last they purely could not get any bigger. "My . . . what . . . how did . . . what . . ." he faltered, not quite able to move, moreover speak. The Sackville-Bagginses walked past, shooting dirty looks at him, probably because he was a Brandybuck. "Queer little thing . . ." "Yes, he IS a Stoor. He can't help what he is." Merry was still too shocked to roll his eyes at the very untrue comment. (He was a great deal Fallowhidish; the strain could be strongly noted.) As soon as Otho and Lobelia were over the rise in the hill, and just as soon as Merry had begun to think that he had been seeing things, Bilbo appeared right back in the flesh. Taking the ring, he flipped it up in the air, caught it, and tucked it snugly back into his waistcoat pocket. With a skip and a hop, Bilbo Baggins went on his way. He stopped short, seeming like he had forgotten something, and turned back around . . . towards the gaping Merry. _

"_Eek!" The young hobbit squeaked, diving into the rose hedge lining the side of the road. He threw his back up against the thorny brambles of the hedge as he heard Bilbo coming closer, mumbling about how he was hearing things lately. Sweat trickled down Merry's forehead as Master Baggins thrust his head through the thicket and peered to the right, yet did not bother to look to the left, to Merry's good fortune. Now since this hobbit was a Brandybuck, and Brandybucks are by nature very inquisitive and Merry was just a lad not even in his tweens yet, something was bound to spark his interest in the matter. So he followed Bilbo all the way to Bag-End, and from thence on he was constantly curious about the old gentlehobbit, and thought that there must be extraordinary things woven around him. More than the Baggins made out himself, apparently. And as usual, Meriadoc was getting himself into worlds of trouble . . . more trouble than he knew._

Bilbo still didn't look uncomfortable amidst the murmuring crowd or "Gross", as he put it. "It is also, if I may be allowed to refer to ancient history, the anniversary of my arrival by barrel at Esgaroth on the Long Lake; though the fact that it was my birthday slipped my memory on that occasion." he persisted, to the hobbits' annoyance. "I was only fifty-one then, and birthdays did not seem so important. The banquet was very splendid, however, though I had a bad cold at the time, I remember, and could only say 'thag you buch'. I now repeat it more correctly: Thank you very much for coming to my little party." Obstinate silence. Merry thought he heard the familiar sound of Pippin's snoring from the right of the tent. "Now there's going to be some absurd form of poetry . . . why can't we drink to the old hobbit's health?" Esmeralda frowned; they all now feared that something like that was imminent . . . in addition they were getting bored.

Much to Merry's expectations and the other's surprise, Bilbo did not sing or recite. He paused; Merry leaned forward, clutching the table's edge so that his fingers turned white. "Thirdly and finally," Bilbo said, "I wish to make an ANNOUNCEMENT." He spoke this last word so loudly and suddenly that everyone sat up who still could. "I regret to announce that – though, as I said, eleventy-one years is far to short a time to spend among you – this is the END. I am going. I am leaving NOW. GOOD-BYE!" He stepped down, there was a blinding flash of light and the guests all blinked. Bilbo Baggins was vanished by the time they opened their eyes again. One hundred and forty-four flabbergasted hobbits sat back in their chairs, utterly speechless. "Mm!" Odo Proudfoot stood up and stamped. There was a breathless silence, until suddenly, after some deep inhaling; every Baggins, Boffin, Took, Brandybuck, Grubb, Chubb, Burrows, Bolger, Bracegirdle, Brockhouse, Goodbody, Hornblower and Proudfoot began to elatedly talk at once.

The hubbub was almost overwhelming. "Mad, mad, mad Baggins! I've always known!" Esmeralda exclaimed, pounding the tabletop so that it quavered.

"Horrible experience! _Never trust a Baggins_ is what I've always said." Toby muttered to the Brandybuck family as he walked past. "Aye." was all that Rory would answer to the Brockhouse. "Never trust a Baggins?" Angelica Baggins turned around from her seat in front of Merry smoothing her hair with a raised eyebrow.

"No dear!" Mrs. Brandybuck said favorably, "That was Toby who said _that . . ._ Bagginses are just simply lovely people. Perhaps with the exception of Bilbo, that is." Esmeralda had always admired and liked the vain lass, and thought that Merry should get to know her better since he was often in the area. "Why don't you talk to my son, Merry? Say hello to Angelica, Merry."

But Merry was worlds away. What had happened had only flared his suspicions to a blaze, and he needed someone to talk to.

"Hullo Merry." Angelica coyly folded her arms across the table in front of her and put her head in them, her golden curls falling over her shoulders. Merry was still staring off in thin air with an open mouth, looking very un-intelligent. "Meriadoc!" his mother snapped, giving his arm a shake.

"Did you _see_ that? By all that I'm worth . . ." he startlingly began with a growing enthusiasm.

"Look who is speaking to you!" Esmeralda said with flushed cheeks. The lad turned to face Angelica, who then gave a small wave and a sparkling smile. "Oh, oh . . . I have to go and . . . and find Essie!" he stuttered, quickly pushing his chair back and scurrying out of the tent.

"Well!" Angelica gasped, standing up with an indignant face. "Essie my foot! Estella Bolger . . . why in name of Marco would a lad like that like a lass like her? Hmph!" And with that she marched away. Old Rory was to preoccupied with the disappearance to make a comment. "There's something fishy in this, my dear!" he said thoughtfully to his daughter-in-law, "I believe that mad Baggins is off again. Silly old fool. But why worry? He hasn't taken the vittles with him. Frodo! Let there be another round of wine to suffice our shock!" Meanwhile, Merry had rushed out of the tent, regardless to the fact that he had slighted the prettiest lass in the Shire, and went search of Estella. "Where can that girl be?" he wondered aloud, turning the bend in a row of hobbit-filled tents.

"If you're meaning me by any chance, then here I am." Estella popped her head out of the nearest tent, her face and eyes smiling.

"Es'! I've got some news! I . . ." Merry started, yet Estella stepped out of the merrymaking and waved her hand around amusedly. "Meriadoc, word spreads fast around here; the hearsay about Bilbo . . . is it true?" Merry tried to talk, but his excitement was so much that the words barely came. "He, yes, he, Bilbo that is, flash! He was then gone . . ."

"Merry! Come on. Let's calm down. Go and rinse your face in the trough over there." Estella directed him to the large, narrow watering trough for all of the guest's ponies. He bent over next to all of the beasts and splashed his face a few times while Estella kept her distance. "Alright. I can talk now. Why don't we go over by the fireworks crates?" he finally said, and asked if he could please borrow Estella's handkerchief, which she gave him. As he dried his face Merry sat down on a crate. "Mmm. Smells like buckwheat." He grinned. "Buckwheat? I was hoping that it was lavender! Bother." Estella moped, as she could never get her things to smell of anything except the autumn harvest of the Marish.

"I like buckwheat . . . it reminds me of harvest in the Marish."

"Then keep it."

"For keeps?"

"For heaven's sake! Yes!"

"Well thanks!"

"You're very much obliged, if you like the smell of buckwheat that much."

"I do. Do you?"

"I do. But not on me!"

There then followed an awkward silence, for this was quite the odd discussion. "Very well! Will you not speak about Bilbo?" Estella finally asked, drumming her fingers on Merry's crate. "Ah! So I forgot, such a Tom Fool as I am." He said, smacking his forehead. "If you are a Tom Fool, then I am a Jack Fool for listening to you. Don't look so put out! I like you all the more for that." Estella apologized quickly, patting his arm affectionately. "Alright then. Well, it all started when I was at the speech, which you were not at for some unknown reason that you are not about to tell me about, and I was sitting there talking with Grandad about . . ." here he flushed vibrant red, ". . . . well, never mind what my grandfather talks about, but we were talking, and then the speech started, of course." "Was it a very good speech? Was it a bore?" Estella asked, not quite interested, poking at some bit of firework sticking out of a crate.

"Oh no, it wasn't. It was rather . . . odd, so to speak. His words rather POPPED OUT at sometimes." He jumped towards the distracted lass to catch her attention again. Estella flinched and jerked upright again. "As you were saying, Mr. Brandybuck!"

"Right." Merry continued with a fond chuckle, "As he was going on and on, as he is expected to do, all of us were getting rather bored, if you get my meaning."

"Of course!" Estella laughed, "You seem to do it all of the time. I am only joking, Merry dear!" she added with a wink at the annoyed gleam in the lad's eye.

"So you are, _Estella dear!_ Since when did I become 'Merry-dear?'?" Merry inquired, pulling out his pipe as he would when feeling comfortable. He maintained his talking, "If you _will_ listen, Essie dearest, then I will go on to tell you that just when we were all feeling quite put out by his reference to us numbering one Gross . . ."

"One Gross!" Estella cut in with intensity.

"Indeed!" Merry exclaimed, "He said that we had totaled the great number of one hundred and forty-four. My mother wasn't pleased with that little statement, I might tell you! So after that, he said something all about his travels and 'thag you very buch', but I saw it coming a hundred miles away. And BOOM FLASH! he was gone. Everybody was up in arms, my dearest Es'." Estella stared rater blankly at him puffing away on his pipe and slouching up against his crate. "Vague," she said after a moment, ", vague yet interesting. And you're hiding something, by the way." Meriadoc sat up straight, and then tried to hide his surprise. "What, why do you think that, Es'?" he smiled broadly, lifting his hands up as if to prove that he was innocent. Estella clucked, giving his chest a shove. "You are altogether too transparent, Merry dear! I can see right through that "grin" . . . it's more of a grimace, so you know."

"Estella! Estella!" Fatty's voice called out through the lantern-lit darkness. "Essie!" he said breathlessly, waddling over to the duo. "I been looking everywhere for you, lass! I should have known you'd be here." He cast a sideways glance at Merry, who artlessly shrugged and shook his head. Fredregar rolled his eyes, saying to his sister, "Well Estella, our wheel just happened to be broken by a kick from Milo's pony, so we are staying at the Green Dragon tonight." Estella gave a bit of a laugh. "Of course, it has to be Milo's animal . . . beastly things anyways." She said before Merry broke in with, "They are not beastly, Es'. Oh, and Fatty! Just so you know, I am also lodging at the Dragon tonight, as I am helping Frodo with some business on the morrow. So see you around, not that you'll like it." He turned to Estella. "I shall see you tomorrow, Estella dearest." He winked cheekily, tipped his hat at a frowning Fredregar, and strode away whistling.

"So are you now officially . . ." Fatty began.

"Never mind!" Estella cut short. "It is an inside joke, Fatty. One that is very amusing to me at the moment. So don't spoil the fun! It's not as if it should go on continually, Fredregar." Fatty tugged at his jacket-ends. "We'll see, Estella Bolger." was all that he would say.


	3. A Guard for Your Heart

J.M.J.

A\N: Hey readers! So very sorry it took this long to get this bloody chapter up, but I have been having so many difficulties with this blasted Dell of mine. I applaud you for your patience, if you still have it by now. Okay I hope you guys enjoy this chapter . . . 9k+ words long! You might find that my style of hobbit ethnicity is traditional Tolkien, yet with a certain kind of undercurrent that suggests the personal life of the writer. I live in a small, country town so I understand the ways of gossip and tight-knit relations between families. My everyday life is poured into my work, so those of you who know me will recognize certain events and people and say to themselves, "Oh that's like the time so-and-so made Mr. What's-his-name furiously angry!" I am also working on a number of other hobbits fics, including a Frodo fic with much, much shorter chapters but more of them, so be sure to read that of you like young\tween Frodo! So tell me what you think of this so that I can have some advice from someone on it. Enjoy!

~Hobbit Freak

Chapter Three: A Guard For Your Heart

"Just smell it! I'm dreaming of something perfectly perfect coming out of that oven very soon!" Merry flopped back sideways on Paladin Took's armchair, taking in the delightful sent of the Yuletide baking drifting in from the kitchen. "Mmmmmm . . . that does smell like heaven! Should we go and investigate it?" Pippin asked, giving a sly yet hungry smile from where he was sitting by the fire. "I dunno, Pip." Merry answered lazily, snatching a cookie off of the nearby table and popping it into his mouth, "Last time I went in there I got a spoon thrown at my head." The blaze in the hearth suddenly gave a loud pop, and an ember landed on Pippin's lap as he cried out, "Yikes! Lawks, that's hot! Well Merry, I think we could sneak past old sharp eyes long enough to snitch a few pieces of raisin bread. Botherations! My velvet trousers are singed and Mother will be sure to murder me. Bother."

"Might as well, but last time she hit me where it counts with that blasted spoon. I swear the lass has it out for me with kitchen utensils. Oh well, let's go anyway; come on!"

The two cousins sprang up and ran out of the drawing room recklessly, almost knocking Elsa Took right off of her feet and sending Mr. Adelard up against a wall and muttering something about how those two needed to get past the age of five. Merry stopped quickly at the edge of the doorway that led into the treacherous kitchen. Pippin, of course, ran smack into him and all plans of a sneak attack were lost as they tumbled head over heels into the room together; it looked to most of the ladies there like a big mess of boy. At least until they could distinguish who the intruders of the sacred place were; that irrepressible twenty-five-year-old Merry Brandybuck and also Pippin, the favorite pet of the Smials. "Hey! We're in!" came Pippin's voice from under Merry. "Huh?" Merry mumbled, raising his head and rather still in shock. WHACK! "Sweet mother . . ." he groaned, once again falling down from the impact of a rolling pin smashing into his head.

There was a swish of skirts, and abruptly there was a lass standing above him. "I thought I told you to keep your filthy trousers away from this kitchen! I thought I told you to wait until tomorrow! I thought I told you to-eek!" Merry had impulsively yanked the girl down beside him, showing that he indeed was in his unruly tweens.

"Hullo Essie! Better time to bash my brains out than right now? How about oh say, tomorrow? Pip and I just wanted a look arou-."

CRACK!

The rolling pin had come down over the unfortunate's skull again with deadly aim. "For the love of ale . . ." he cringed, holding his smarting head in agony. That pin was made out of oak, you know. "That was for pulling me down! And this . . ." another whack, ". . . is for not remembering that you have," and another "a whole row of ponies to feed and water." Estella Bolger scowled, giving one last thump on the annoying scoundrel's curly head. "Now get moving." The lass finished, standing up and dusting herself off politely as if she had stooped to pick up a dropped handkerchief.

"I'll be blest if I can _"get moving"_ with all of these bruises!" Merry grumbled as he stood up and helped the unscathed Pippin to his feet. "Come along, Merry! Mustn't keep Estella scathing at you if you are to get a dance out of her." Pippin joked, dragging his unwilling cousin out of the kitchen, knowing that there was bound to be a horrible disagreement if this Brandybuck staid in the kitchens much longer. "So does this mean you'll dance with me tomorrow?" Merry cheeked a last time before he was pulled out of the room. Estella raised the rolling pin threateningly. "I'm going, I'm going!" he said, giving a mock gasp. _No need to take precautions when you're well out of danger anyways._ He thought impishly. "She sure did pack that last one in good, didn't she?" Pippin whistled as the two walked out to the stables in overcoats and scarves, well bundled up for the bitter weather. Meriadoc rubbed the back of his head tenderly, thinking that he shouldn't put up with a lass two years younger than himself beating the pipeweed out of him every time he so much as looked in the kitchen.

"Well, Es' has always been defensive about keeping us lads out of the kitchen . . . why do you think that they want us out anyway, Pip?" he speculated, wondering what the big secret was about anyhow. "Merry, it's quite simple." Peregrin said casually, unlatching the stable gate, "They want all of the food to themselves." Meriadoc felt that that was a sufficient enough answer as it made complete sense to him. "Ah! That must be it, Pippin. You're brilliant. But I suppose only some of them eat themselves sick, because a lot of them aren't very plump." he replied, grunting with exertion as he hauled a bucket of water up to a latch on a pony's stall hook, "I mean, Estella isn't fat, and neither is her mother. They must be like us, and know how to stop and control your appetite." Peregrin agreed. The cousins went down the lane of ponies, giving them water and yellow-bright, sweet hay from the stock. By the time the work was through, the two hobbits were heaving white puffs of cold air into the clear night from effort.

"Ah. A job well done is a night well rested, as they say." Merry said with a sigh of satisfaction as he stepped back and admired the beasts all taken care of properly, pulling his hat off and mopping his shining brow. The young Took's own face was riddled with sweat-beads as well, and he looked awfully uncomfortable in his thick coat. "Meriadoc, I think that I rather enjoy the holidays." He confessed, tugging at his scarf. Merry gave a small chuckle as he let a bay mare nuzzle his cheek with her own velvety nose.

"You, Pip? Like the holidays? I thought we agreed that Lithe was bothersome and Yule was detestable. Excepting the baking, that is."

Pippin smirked and rolled his eyes back in his head obnoxiously, saying with torment, "Don't leave out the dancing lessons from Pearl! Those make me want to go and put rotten tomatoes Pimpernel's hair when she's sleeping." Yet here he smiled genuinely and declared with an honest face, "But really, Merry. I like seeing all of our cousins together and so festive, too! Nothing beats a Took celebration just as there's no comparison to Brandybuck parties."

"I second the motion!" Merry all but shouted in the tweenish delight of being loud. Very suddenly, Pippin went stiff. "D'you hear that?" he asked, clutching his friend's arm. The long howl of a wolf sounded across the rolling plains of Tookland. "Aw, that's nothing to worry about, scaredy-Pip! They're a long ways off, and not likely to come near here. Albeit they come here, the ponies are nice and locked up, nothing to be afraid of." Merry assured the terrified Took, who informed him quickly that there were _actual_ wolves here in Took country, not just stories like in Buckland.

"Of all the cowards, you must be the worst, Peregrin Took. Wolves my foot. That's probably nothing but Adelard's dogs! Come on. We both need to get to bed if we are going to wake up to the festivities tomorrow with no sagging eyes and drooping shoulders."

Seemingly, Pippin was convinced, and they both set off for the Smials and their cozy beds. Merry made sure to double-check the lock on the gate, though.

oO-Oo

"Mm . . ."

Merry covered his head with his pillow. The noises continued; loud laughter from Evrard and his brother Reginard coming from across the hall in the other room. "Shut it, Ev'!" Merry groaned, now putting his blanket over his head. What time was it besides? He glanced at the clock on wall and it read two o' clock in the wee hours.

"Can't a hobbit get a bit of peace 'round here? Well no, since this _is _Tuckborough. Stupid me."

Merry tried as best he could to fall back asleep, but the young Tooks were just too loud. And they had some type of animal with them. Who would have an animal in the dead of night? A growling animal too, perhaps a dog. Hmm. That couldn't be right; Reggie was allergic. Muttering, the young hobbit rolled out of bed and stammered over to the window. "Confusticate this winter weather!" he said, wiping the frost off of the small, round window that looked out to the barnyard.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed abruptly, jumping back as a black shadow swept pass the window. That's when he heard it; the long wails of wolves from over the nearest hillock. Merry hurriedly scuttled around pulling on some suspenders and throwing a coat on.

"Oh!"

He remembered that he had best wake his father, so he could wake uncle Paladin, because that was a task that held bad, bad consequences. Merry ran over to the curtain that divided the room the halves and threw it back, going over to his parents' bed. "Da! Da, wake up!" he urgently whispered, shaking his father's shoulder. Saradoc turned over, grumbling, "What in the name of the Oldbucks are you doing, Meriadoc? It's the middle of the night and I'm trying to . . ."

"No, no Da! There are wolves outside by the livestock and you have to go and wake Uncle, because if I do you won't have an heir to the Mastership. So come on!" his son explained, giving his father a motivating pull.

"What's this about?" Esmeralda said groggily, rousing.

"Aye nothin', just stupid beasts outside that are going to ruin your brother's only ponies if I don't get over there and tell him. Go back to sleep."

Saradoc tried to hush the unhushable Esmeralda. "What? Merry, Saradoc! Be careful!" she called after them as they ran out the door as fast as anything.

_Knock._

Mr. Brandybuck rapped once on the elaborately decorated wooden door, hinged with bedecked iron pivots that wound themselves across the door itself. Merry gave a sideways glace at his father. "Go on. Give another knock." he insisted, taking a step away from the closed entrance. Still trying to look like none of this bothered him whatsoever, Saradoc nodded hesitantly and once again knocked upon the door, this time giving some forceful raps in greater quantity.

The two Brandybucks could here the obvious wrath inside of the bedchamber by the ear-searing words that were being shouted in full tone. Merry dove behind his father, twenty-five though he might be.

_THUMP, THUMP, THUMP._

Destruction was imminent as Paladin's large feet were pounding across the room.

"M-Meriadoc, you had best tell him why you're here!"

Saradoc quivered in his trousers, now remembering the time when he was a young hobbit and trying to get Esmeralda's attention. We shall just say that Paladin was not a tolerant older brother to sniveling Brandybucks that were eventually going to rob him of his only younger sister. Indeed, Paladin Took was none to be messed with. Merry had often wondered if he had somehow taken Pippin in as a baby, because Peregrin wasn't the resemblance of his father in any way at all. This all of course was ridiculous as Pippin so closely resembled his soft-faced mother in form and somewhat in nature.

The pounding by now had stopped, and there was a deathlike silence, excepting the knocking of Merry's knees. _'Never wake Father' is what Pip told me! I should have listened!_ He thought while anticipating how bad it would hurt to be ripped apart by your uncle.

"What the bloody blazes!"

The fiery Took had immerged. "Don't bloody anything!" Merry squeaked, hiding behind the flung open door, thinking that somehow the expression was surely meant for him.

"Tis wolves, Paladin! Wolves I say!"

The shirking lad heard his father say to his fuming brother-in-law. Mr. Took was now answering or perhaps yelling, "Wolves? By _my_ stables? By the Bullroarer, I shan't stand for _this_ nonsense!" Merry glanced cautiously out from behind the door. He saw the view of his rampant uncle storming down the hall to the front door with a scythe in hand, not remembering to dress himself and looking very much like a barbarian man from the Wild. Saradoc was following the hobbit at a safe distance.

The lad was about to go off and join the commotion when he noticed that Mrs. Eglantine Took was uncertainly peeking her small brown-curled head out of the doorway. "Oh! Hullo, Auntie and a good middle o' the night to you." Merry politely said, bowing. Eglantine slowly stepped out into the hall, her hair falling softly down the back of her nightgown. "Hello, Meriadoc." she said gently, giving a little smile, "How are you doing tonight?" Merry returned the smile brightly.

He had always liked his peaceful aunt in comparison with her vehement husband. Merry thought that she was quite near to the perfect person, and also thought that Paladin was quite lucky to have her ordering about the Smials. "I'm well, Aunt. And you?" he asked. "I should be well, Merry, if I knew what was going on. Mightn't you tell me?" Mrs. Took said, glimpsing down the hallway to the other hobbit-men getting up and out of their rooms to see what was happening themselves.

The round front door was left swinging on its hinges, forgotten to be shut in Paladin's haste. Merry suddenly realized that he was probably missing out on all of the bloodshed, so he quickly summed up the situation as fast as he could to his aunt and then bid her a hasty goodbye and hurried off and away out the door. The night air smote him like a brick in the chest as he jauntily stepped out onto the porch, for it was a bitter, moonlit night outside. Yet through the cold Merry saw how very beautiful it all was.

The moon was casting her rays across the rolling plains of Tookland, illuminating every far-off tree, shrub, ditch and mound of un-gathered hay left from the year's harvesting. The great and long millpond of the Smials was glittering off in the distance with the pale sparkle of the stars and the reflection of the barren trees surrounding it. And far, far, far away, so very far, the young bedazzled hobbit could see the tops of some high hills over in the Green Hill Country with mist swirled about their peaks like a the wisps of high spring clouds.

He choked back a sudden exclamation that wanted to escape his mouth; how the setting of Tookland made one think of adventure and perilous quests! Something seemed to be calling him out onto the Road with all of its hopes, fears, doubts, failings and victories. Yet the anticipation that swelled ever more strongly in his breast was distracted by the growls of wolves out by the stables, and the sturdy shouts of the hobbits. "Bebother! What am I doing? I should be helping!" he cried out with guilt in his idle dreaming.

"Oi! What's up now, Merry?"

Meriadoc strained his eyes down the steep hill in front of the Smials to see the person who had spoken. But it did not take much straining in the clear moonlight to see that it was Estella all bundled up trudging up toward him. "What're you doing out this late in the dead of winter all alone?" Merry questioned, rather bothered by the fact that there were wolves right around the corner and she had been out in the fields unaccompanied. Estella began to laugh; warning him to keep his shirt on and that there was no need to get riled.

"But what were you _doing,_ lass? There are wolves over by the ponies . . ."

As soon as the words so much as left his mouth, Estella was cowering down behind him, fright starting in her eyes. "Wolves? I heard some a while back but are they here? Here in the barnyard? Oh Merry, Merry this is bad!" she whispered, clutching to his suspenders as if they would protect her from harm. Merry stoutly puffed himself up, trying as he always did to look brave and daring.

"Ha! Wolves? Fiddlesticks! You and me Eastfarthingers, we've worse living by the Old Forest. I shall not let them get to you at any rate."

"Merry . . ." Estella ventured.

"What?"

"Then why aren't you helping your Uncle Paladin and your father with those very safe very harmless wolves?"

Merry coughed and rubbed the back of his sleeve against his mouth, nodding thoughtfully.

"Well, you might say that I am keeping the watch, rather. I'm standing guard."

"Well out of the reach of any flesh-eating beasts, right so?" Estella now queried with restrained mirth at the bogus courage on Merry's part. At least she thought that it was all pretended for her enjoyment.

Yet one would think that she walked asleep all of these years if she did not think that he was brave for her. Countless times over had proven this in many circumstances, but perhaps it would take something of a great worth and cost to make her realize that it was indeed true that he would walk over the edge of the world for her. Well yes, a hobbit of course is naturally wary and humble, and of course Merry had these ordinary traits. There was something different about this Brandybuck, though.

Many had noticed his lack of fear for various things that hobbits are generally afraid of, such as the Old Forest, old farmer Maggot's dogs and besides that he engaged himself in "preventable", as many would say, brawls with assorted insulters of the Brandybuck name. Others said it was just a touch of Fallohide youth coming out in him, and that he had more common sense than a bucket-load of people away down in the Southfarthing.

As you would expect, Meriadoc thought that Estella's constant jests about him was all in good fun, and that she really did think him something else. And right now on the eve of Yule out in the open air with wolves howling in front of him and a trembling lass behind him, he was thinking himself very brave indeed. "Es', you mustn't think like that." Merry laughed "I might as well be over there with them right now, but then again, I have you to look after. So go along inside! I must be of use now." He escorted her to the door so he could be on his way, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that he was in no rush himself. And before Merry went off, Estella caught hold of his arm.

"Stay safe, and don't go trying to do anything brave. Your father still needs you to help with the ponies, after all."

The lad's heart rose and then dropped, for he thought she was going to say something a bit more sensitive than that he was still needed for toil and labor.

There had been the days before Estella had "got queer", and when she had openly shared her thoughts with others without fearing awkwardness. Now Merry thought it hard to talk very candidly with her as he used to, for his friend seemed to be veiling something that ran a bit deeper than the ordinary trials of everyday life. He sensed that it had something to do with the "Bolger trouble" that he had overheard some of the elders talking about one evening. (He hadn't _meant_ to snoop, but alas, that was one of his very pathetic weak points.)

Of course, he had straight away gone to Frodo for advice and Pippin for comfort. Frodo, being the sensible hobbit he was, told Merry that it happened to all lasses, and to not worry over it as it would all blow over with the coming of late tweenagehood. In actuality, dear old Frodo probably guessed the serious trouble that the Odovacar Bolger family was having, and did not want to distress Merry too badly over it.

On the other hand, Pippin had recommended a series of practical jokes and pranks to be pulled on Estella to wake her up nice and proper-like as a good lad should do; one could tell that _he_ wasn't worried about anything. Poor Meriadoc was stuck in the middle, not wanting to hurt anybody's feelings that badly by either ignoring or pranking them to death.

"Yes of course, I mean, I am still needed for work." he now added as if he were slighted before heavily walking away. _That lass needs a bit of lightening up!_ Merry thought quickly as he rounded the bend to the barnyard where he had indeed missed all of the action, and had come right in time to help clean up the mess of pony strung across the ground. Merry winced. Paladin was on bended knee by one of his best mares covered in deep slashes and bites that leaked a dark red. "Poor Lady . . . I should have taken betta' care of her." he was whispering while stroking the pony's mane.

"Uncle!"

The lad ran up to Paladin, ready to give as much comfort as was needed; he knew how much his uncle loved his animals. "I'm sorry, Uncle." He said softly, laying a hand on Mr. Took's shoulder. "Heaven help us, Merry lad, but I think that getting on w'out old Lady will be harder than it looks. Won't Eglantine be sorry to see her go, though?" Paladin said ruefully as if to himself, still rubbing his pony's neck. Merry nodded, thinking that his uncle _must_ have a tender side despite his coarseness, and offered to help dispose of the messy livestock carcass scattered around them.

"Are you hurt at all, Uncle?"

"Not much, lad." Paladin replied quietly, disguising the huskiness in his voice. Merry picked it up the croak anyways, feeling quite guilty for not coming right away to save the livestock and instead boasting to Estella. _Ach,_ he thought with a rueful smile, _Essie's done and gone it again._

-OooO-

Pippin tapped his wide foot to the time of the music, a carefree smile spread across his face. He thought that this particular dance looked rather hard and tiresome, though he didn't know what it was called or how to dance it as he was loath to take lessons from Pimpernel. Absently pulling a thread out from an unraveling pattern on his waistcoat, the young Took didn't notice the dark-headed Everard as he sat down from a tiring dance. Ev' had stuck his nose nearly an inch away from Pippin's face when at last Peregrin detected someone.

"OI!" he all but shrieked, frightened out of his wits, if he had any. Everard burst out in fits of laughter as he was accustomed to do these days; for the past five years, he had got to be a pain to be around. Taking to the pubs and inns rather than tending to the flocks, spending more time around that lazy sort of company that insisted upon doing shifty, dishonest work, and worst of all, idling their time away spreading scathing, scandalous gossip to gullible country-folk ears.

Now Everard did not engage in all of these pursuits, as he was by nature a good-hearted lad with the noblest of intentions, yet had fallen in with the wrong sort of lot as he did not quite fit in with the ordinary class of hobbit dispositions. This was how it went with many of the more well-bred of the Shire folk. And how Everard Took got to be in the troublesome crowd this story will later reveal, yet not just at the moment. Ev' was feeling particularly vexed at the moment, and a rebellious desire to stir up mischief was flaring up unchecked in his heart, and his heart was always the one thing that betrayed his goodwill and tact, and he found it difficult to keep a guard over it. And he wasn't right now, as he had thought he had found the perfect victim to unwittingly carry out his bad intentions. "Hullo Peregrin! Fancy seeing you here. Aren't you s'posed to be helping clear up the accident?" he asked, staring steadfastly at the other.

Pippin hardly glanced at him, for Merry had told him to try to steer clear of Everard as he had of late been getting out of hand with his unruliness. He answered coolly, "Eh, no. I always try to make it to the holidays. And the mess from last night is all taken care of. Well, Mr. Everard, I'll be seeing you round." Pippin dusted his breeches off as if washing himself of any nonsense and stood to go and hunt out some jollier company. Everard's face flushed red at his failure in inducing the young Took to a wicked suspicion. No, he couldn't let victory fall from his fingertips that easily; Peregrin Took had a subtleness to gossip somewhere, if only it was presented in the proper manner. And Everard meant to do just that. "Hold on, Pip!" he called out jovially, yanking him back down by the sleeve. Pippin's green eyes seldom grew provoked, but now they were brimming over with annoyance.

"Just what do you want of me, and why so in earnest?"

Ev' raised his eyebrows dramatically, pulling Pippin over to him by the shoulder. "I've got something _very, very_ important to tell you!" he hissed in his ear, "And you won't even sit still long enough to hear about it." Every urge inside of Peregrin told him to go away and indeed _not_ listen to this bit of "importance", but even if one has kept a careful watch after one's own inclinations, you can still give in sometimes when you feel the weakest. "Well . . . alright. What is it?" Pippin asked reluctantly, knowing Merry was bound to get him if he got wind of this. Everard now felt in control of the moment, so he laid his plans promptly and put them into action sooner.

"I have something of_ importance_, I'll stress the point, which you might want to hear. You're cousin, that Merry, told me."

Now with a newfound interest, Peregrin pricked his ears up and leaned in closer. He wondered what Merry could have possibly told Everard Took that was so fascinating.

"Alright what? I mean, I didn't know that you talked to Merry at all. You and he, errrm . . . sort of had it out last year."

Pippin hesitated, remembering the horrible fight that had broken out last October between the two. Ev' only laughed and drew Pippin in nearer to himself by the shoulders, saying in almost a hiss-like whisper, "Silly Pip! Do you intend to remain a clueless country boy for the rest of your life? Here me now: Merry told me of a little plan that he was arranging with Elena Maggot . . . a sort of conspiracy."

"Conspiracy? Elena Maggot?" Pippin exclaimed, very confused, "What's it about? I haven't heard of it at any rate. And Estella has just only told me that Merry was rather angry at Elena for wearing such an offensive dress to the Lithe celebration. Es' says that she'll be the disgrace of the whole Maggot family at the rate her neckline is dropping. _Up to the throat or else is a goat_."

Pippin amply demonstrated the old Took saying by stiffening his hand and pounding his collarbone with a significant look at the other, who huffed and replied with, "Your Da and Mum's silly little notions . . . when _will_ you start thinking in the present?" Pippin glared at Everard, telling him that any notion his parents have got is good and sound enough for him and that perhaps if quiet modesty is silly, then he shouldn't like to hear what Elena's standards are. And before Master Everard could utter another enticing lie, Peregrin Took was on his feet and in the kitchen on the way to root out some 1324, thereby soothing his hurting conscience.

_How dare he! How dare that ass of a boy insult my parents . . . my mother!_ Pip thought as he yanked the cork out of a rather large jug with a lovely-sounding _pop_. "What was I thinking?" he said aloud, scolding himself as he often did after some unpleasant incident, "Talking to Everard, humph! Should've listened to Merry on the matter." Pippin swung the jug up to his lips taking in a long drought before continuing, "Idle gossip! That's all I've to say about the rubbish that lad's spreading."

Our young hobbit was beginning to thoroughly enjoy himself and his quickly diminishing ale when the brazen yet musical voice of Elena Maggot coming round the corner reached his pointed ears.

"Pippy Took! Oh my, how much, much, much you _have_ grown!"

Pippin could have burst out in tears at yet another aggravation; he knew that Elena would try to smooth things out between her and Merry through himself tonight. The lass always had to ruin everything! Stowing his precious liquid away under a table, he turned to face the trepidation like a lad. When he did, Pippin found, to his pleasant surprise, that he had grown at least a whole hand taller than Elena since last he saw her. _Now_ he felt better! Boldly he boomed in a voice that would've only come from one too many swigs with the ale, "Hullo, Miss Maggot! I was just taking in the agreeable sent of," here Peregrin belched deafeningly, "BEER!"

Anything witty or cunning that Elena had up her sleeve was now completely lost, and even if she tried to gain her bearings back again it was to no avail, for Pippin's ridiculousness came as a shock to most. All Tooks are peculiar, and they get even more peculiar when they've had something to drink.

_Stupid Took!_ She thought, _He is so queer and all, and utterly old-fashioned. Alas, if I am to get a fair shot at Merry I must be at my politest._

So Miss Maggot decided to act out her part cleverly, as to regain her position in the eyes of the future Master, and at the same time help her cousin Everard out with his tiff. Elena's heart was now set on fixing her injured pride, and the lass staunchly tossed her head up to look Peregrin Took in the eye. And that was a mistake, for as her guilty gaze met with the pure and innocent eyes of Pippin, Elena couldn't help but quickly turn her pretty face down to the floor.

Her conscience hurt her just then when she realized that if she was going to be a wicked lass then at least she could prevent the good and wholesome from being so too as she was all to stuck in her ways to change them. All the while Pippin had been preparing himself to be able to give a firm _no_ to the young Maggot, whatever trouble she had up her sleeve. Yet now there were only a few lines of what was, seemingly, remorse cutting across her brow.

Elena once again glanced up, this time with tears of shame in her eyes, saying inaudibly, "I'm so sorry Peregrin Took!" With that she left in a hurry, tugging her neckline up with sniffles. Although Pippin was thoroughly bewildered, he still felt a bit of relief with mingled sympathy when she went away. Alas this _was_ a bit too much for poor Pippin; this was supposed to be Merry's job for heaven's sake!

"Gossipin' insultin' Tooks and fast Maggots . . . what is a future Thain to do?" Pippin deeply sighed, collapsing down onto a near stool. He reached down snatched up his jug from its hiding place, smiling at it fondly.

"Dear me . . . is this how the holidays always go?"

With that, he finished off the 1324 with many a giggle.

-OooO-

"That's it, Merry-lad!"

"Aye Ev', keep it up! You'll keep good the Took name."

Many young folk gathered round the present arm-wrestling competition. The struggle was stiff and anticipation was high for bet-makers. The Tooks were all for Everard, and the few Brandybucks there cheered for their kin Meriadoc. "Give it . . . give it up, Everard!" Merry got out in broken breaths, looking up briefly to challenge his opponent with his sparking pale blue eyes. Evrard set his face with the determination of a race horse, shouting "That's what you think!"

Ever since the fight last year - it had been spur of the moment and totally reckless with no final victor - the two cousins had been searching for an excuse to have it out again. This golden opportunity had presented itself when Ferdibrand Took had jested that Everard and his brother went unmatched in strength by any of the lads even in the North Farthing, which was completely absurd. Merry had been quick to defy this statement by giving a loud snort and sardonically mentioning something about whining little Harfoots that had not even enough might to push a plowshare. With that, the Tooks had gone over to one side of the room and the Brandybucks to the other.

The lines had been drawn and challenge was in every single glance there. Now it was all up to Everard and Merry to see who the "betters" of the two families was. This was indeed no easy task, for both lads did not spend their days idly like some; Meriadoc had spent his childhood breaking in young ponies while Everard was used to the rigorous farm life. For now it was either suffer shame or come out tops, and no one could guess who was going to uphold their family name. A small trifle this was, but it meant a great deal to the tweens.

"Come on, Merry! That's a lad!" many shouted. The hullabaloo was alarmingly noisy around the oblivious competitors, and one too many bets were being laid by the excided juniors. All of the commotion was so great that it would have been the talk of Bywater for a week had it been in that area, but here at a Took holiday in Tuckborough one would expect such things on a daily basis. The crowd thronged in and it was almost impossible to cut through to the other side of the room, even if only to exit the place. And Estella Bolger was having this very problem. She had heard some racket going on, and had caught the words, "That mischievous Brandybuck upstart" and suspected Merry. She had not seen him since the incident the night before, and had been wondering if he was perhaps too tired to show up to the festivities. Apparently not, for as she edged her way through many hobbits to the center of the hubbub, there was Merry, perspiration dotting his forehead and his face all aglow with the light of a battle.

It seemed that his strength was wavering, for his arm was trembling a good deal as was Everard's; they had been at it for twenty minutes. Estella constrained an encouraging scream as it would not be at all ladylike, and after all some of her family might hear. The lass was now very much enjoying this contest, for it was not at all violent, like Merry's sport usually was. It was good and wholesome . . . or so she thought. _Come now Meriadoc! You can win._ She wished him well in her heart. Ironically, the absorbed Brandybuck glanced up and caught her gaze. A small smile crept over his face, and he gave a cheeky wink at her before he continued with his struggle, a bit more heartened at the sight of a close friend. Estella only grinned and rubbed her temples, contemplating the fact that if he was to beat Ev' he would have to focus somewhat. Suddenly though, Everard bore down hard with an outburst of strength.

Everyone was surprised by this and the room went quiet. Later on, Fatty had said that a look of pure anger had passed over his face for a reason he knew not. That reason would remain hidden for quite a long time until oppression forced it out of him. Now in the present, he was gaining a wonderful advantage over Merry as he bent the other's arm backward. Merry resisted the force of the push, yet it was overall too great a thing for him to fight back. With all of his might Merry pushed but to no avail as his hand hit the small table with a bang. So ended the match; Everard Took taking away the honors of champion of the night. Tooks swarmed around their victor, raising him high above the crowd with many hoorays.

"Ev'! Ev'! Everard the champion in strength!" they hollered amidst the cheerful disorder. Everard looked Merry's way complacently, savoring his moment of triumph. The young Brandybuck only plastered a lopsided smile on and got up, bowing deeply to his rival. Merry then turned to greet Estella for the first time that night, thinking that he might just have a good jest about this with her. "Hullo Essie! How're we tonight?" he asked, walking up to the smartly-dressed lass while mopping his brow with another one of his "lucky" blue handkerchiefs. Estella smiled and gave him a quick handshake. "Oh fine Merry. But how are _you?"_ she exclaimed, taking in his disheveled state, "You did a fine job out there!"

"Oh come . . ." the worn hobbit chuckled, "I lost."

"Yes, but you were just tired, s'all." Estella answered encouragingly if breathlessly, pulling a bit at her side and inhaling as deeply as she could. Merry noted her discomfort with her bodice, yet bit his lip, knowing where not to poke his big nose. "And Mer . . ." Estella was cut off by a rough call for her coming from the adjoining hall. Her dark eyes abruptly became absorbed with staid distress. "What is it? Essie?" Merry asked with true concern in his voice. The summon came again, this time louder, full of reckless demanding. Merry took hold of her arms to steady her; she looked so pale it seemed as if she would be sick. He could feel her body trembling as he firmly clutched her, and was afraid something bad had come up. "Merry . . . I-I have to go. Now, Merry! Please let me go." Estella pleaded.

"Why? C'mon, tell me."

The lass only shook her head firmly and tried to edge away. Meriadoc knew he must let her go for now even though his heart wanted to keep her from the thing she feared whatsoever it was. Bringing her into a quick embrace, he then released the girl who then darted off into the multitudes of hobbits. Merry Brandybuck now suspected the worst; something was wrong with his dear friend, and he meant to help with whatever he could.

**CHAPTER THREE, PART TWO**

The knitting lesson was getting intolerably loathsome as Ms. Haygood droned on and on about the proper usage of the smaller hook. Her taut auburn curls jumped all about her pudgy cheeks whenever her pointing stick would flick back over her shoulder to stay put until one of the young maids there would make a mistake. Lasses in their late tweens would be sent here from all over the Shire to learn to keep a house, especially those from the more wealthy families that had not had much training in that area. Mr. Odovacar Bolger had done his daughter well by keeping her busy under the instruction of various neighbors that were willing to teach her when his wife was too busy attending to the business of the family.

Yet Estella was sent here anyway, for good breeding demanded that she go along with the other lasses of her age . . . even if she knew exactly how every stitch knot was to be hooked looped or crossed. She was a farm lass, after all. And as the lesson drew on for what seemed like hours now, the only bright side to this day was that it had snowed heavily last night, and Merry had promised to meet her after the knitting session was over so that they could frolic about in the snow like little children. Of course snow was very rare for the Shire at large, but here in the Marish and Buckland they had it at least every three years, which of course made Buckland seem even queerer than everyone already thought it.

"And this, my dears, is how we tie the . . . MELIOT BRANDYBUCK!" Ms. Haygood screeched, making the lass in question jump. "Yes, Ms. Haygood?" Meliot answered meekly, lifting her eyes to the instructor's. The portly lady walked slowly over to her, flicking her pointer back and forth as she seemingly descended upon her prey.

"Meliot Brandybuck, do you see the grand gaffe that is in your piece of work? Hmm?"

The young maid lifted her square of crochet to the light, inspecting it with trembling fingers. "No . . . no I do not, Ms." She finally replied, gritting her teeth for the imminent storm to come. As Ms. Haygood commenced her screaming and shouting at Meliot, Estella gave her eyes a slight roll and turned to moodily gaze out at the light shimmering across the snow like it did on the great slue down at the Bolger residence. Fond memories of splashing and swimming there with Merry and Fatty wandered across her mind, and all thoughts of the present quickly dispersed. They had indeed dispersed so well that when her name was being called and called again for the fourth time she did not hear it.

"YOU ARE DISMISSED MS. BOLGER!"

The entire group of pupils leaving the room gave tittering laughter that was quickly silenced by the spiteful stare of Ms. Haygood. Estella blew out a quick and angry breath, getting up from her stool with a hook still stuck behind her ear. _Oh bebother it all!_ She thought, snatching up her coat as she stormed out of the room.

-OooO—

_Humph. What a day that was! Why I have to go here is beyond my reckoning._ Estella's mind boiled and fumed. The large circle of a door was only as few steps away, and that was a welcome sight indeed. She was the last student to leave as usual, since dwelling by the old maps in posted on the walls in one of the very back rooms of the hole was favorite pastime of hers. "Goodbye Ms. Bossy!" She muttered under her breath with a smirk as she stepped out into the riveting air of December. And she had not long to think about it, for as soon as she was past the front steps a great clod of ice and wet mush landed at her furry feet and burst into a billion tiny shards, reflecting the pale winter sun as they exploded.

Now Estella's eyes had never been very keen to bright light, and she squinted terribly now, trying to make out what or who had thrown the ice. It was all too obvious when the familiar chuckle of Merry hit her pointed ears. "Oh you!" she cried out, and the war began. Estella fell on her knees and groped frantically for some sort of freezing object to throw at the enemy. Only loose, powdery snow filled her bare hands, almost chilling them to pain. She could still hear Merry cackling to the point of being obnoxious as she fumbled about on her hands and knees with watery eyes from the glare of the sun. "Oh Es', must you be as pathetic as all that?" he guffawed loudly, scooping up some more ice with an evil grin forming about the corners of his mouth.

Estella's sight had now adjusted enough to make out where he was, and little did he know that there was a grand hunk of snow and ice tucked under the lass's arm. And like that conniving Brandybuck, she also had a wicked grin on her frostbitten face. "Alright Meriadoc . . . truce." Estella smiled a little too goofily. It was all too obvious that she was atrocious at lying. Merry of course knew this and watched amusedly as the "grand schemer" slowly drew forth her ice chunk, almost dropping it, and shoved it into his chest with a slight "oof". Throwing his head back and giving a hearty laugh, Merry tripped her with one swift motion, landing her in the soaring snow bank that had accumulated on the northern side of the hole.

"Owww . . ."

Estella sat up to where her head was visible, rubbing the back of it. To Merry's consternation she waved her hand about dismissively saying that all was well. "Oh dear I've bruised you." He mumbled, coming closer and tilting her head down to examine his handiwork.

"Ach, you've a splendid bash in your bonnie wee noggin, lassie."

"Your fault, none the less."

Estella grinned; looking up smugly yet flinched as pain coursed through her skull. Merry was now looking more than a bit concerned. "Well you got yourself into it m'lady. Now up you get." The lad pulled her up swiftly, setting her on her feet. "Might this be a lesson to you, Meriadoc Brandybuck. Pushing ladies down is something that was, to my knowledge, discouraged in the Marish." They began to trudge through the white fluff that covered almost everything that was visible, their feet leaving two sets of tracks across the barren cabbage field.

For a few miles, there wouldn't be any more holes or even houses as was the custom to build in the Marish, for Ms. Haygood's hole was purposely out in the middle of nowhere to keep the girls focused on the assignments of the day. Of course Estella grumbled a good deal about this to her family, yet even her brother couldn't convince Rosamunda Bolger that her daughter was in no need of extra training.

"So," Merry began, squinting his eyes against the onslaught of blinding light, "I hear Fatty's been taken in as a carpenter up in Whitfurrows." A small nasal laugh followed his casual statement. Her mittens swinging from their strings, Estella tried to contain the smile that was trying to surface itself on her face.

"Well Merry, I think the people of Whitfurrows will like the artistic balance of their tables and chairs."

Her Brandybuck companion let out a deep chuckle that he stifled with the sleeve of his coat. The tween hobbit's voice had changed within the last five months with the coming of his mid-twenties, not ceasing to startle many of his friends whenever he would so much as say, "Pass the jam". And he wasn't the only one changing; there was first cousin Berilac who had grown two inches above his father, and Pippin was almost as high as that! Merry himself was staying a miserable 3'4, to his trepidation and Estella's amusement at being eye-level with him. Especially when there was some debate or teasing session going on, she but only had to run a hand from her forehead to his with a smirk and it was all over for Meriadoc.

The whole of Buckland was always very confused as to why the Master's son was built up with so much of that nervous energy likened to his mother's, so much so that he was always smacking his absurd friends whenever something got exciding. And especially at the taverns. Oh, and there was that one lass (whom everyone seemed to think was his sister) that seemed to silently follow him around most of the time. "That sister or cousin or whatever of Merry's" country folk would say, "she seems to keep that troop of lads steady when she's with em', eh?" And they were right. Estella's presence greatly influenced her cousins of all degrees to behave themselves to a certain extent. Oh, she knew too well that boys must have their fun, and she endorsed quite a bit of it as long as she could sit back and watch them do it – with the exception that she wouldn't be involved.

"The way it is so clean out here when it snows like this . . . it makes one feel fresh and ready to work, eh?" Merry now asked, sniffing in the scent of a brush fire burning a-ways off south, its smell carrying across the fields with the swift wind. Winter had always been his favorite time of the year. "After a day at schooling, I'd say no to that." Estella answered with a sigh followed by a smile as she realized how good it was to be talking and joking after a day's dreary work.

"So how's life over at the farm?" Merry nonchalantly asked, blowing puffs of warm air out, acting as if smoking a pipe. Estella immediately grew uncomfortable, swallowing nothing but a dry mouth. Merry knew her father was ill, she knew that much. But what she didn't think he knew was that her uncle had come to run the farm while Odovacar was unable to. And nobody new what he did. Only Estella. And since last week, Fredregar knew too, when he walked in the cellar late at night just arriving home and caught Uncle Alaric with his arm pinning his sister's shoulders still against the wall. The place had reeked of alcohol. Her dark eyes were wide with terror, but dry. Fatty had seen Alaric's hand closing about her waist as he held her there. Estella still remembered the way her brother's eyes had blazed as he had bashed in their uncle's head with a milk jug, then taking her to the safety of his room.

It had happened before. Many times, actually. But Estella never told, never whispered a word. _Its better this way_ she had thought, focusing all of her energy on ways to stay clear of her uncle. But oh! How she wanted to tell every single thing to Merry when he would ask her how she'd been doing, as he was doing now. She could feel her heart pound, threatening to break at the longing to just _tell_ him. "Estella?" Merry asked, looking over at her, "Did you hear me? I asked how farm life has been going for you." Biting her cheek until her mouth tasted metallic, she said in a high squeak, "Fine!" The lad started laughing for a while. "That sounded funny." He finally mumbled upon seeing the sullen expression of his companion.

They walked on in silence, Merry stealing wondering glances at her every so often as they plodded along. He wrapped his scarf around her neck after a time when he noticed she was shivering, even though she flung it off as he knew she would. He put it back on her. The snow drifts grew deeper as they neared the Bolger residence, and they had to crawl over them, getting every layer they had on soaked through. "Last drift!" Merry called back to her from where he had mounted an enormous mountain of snow. "Coming!" she shouted back, struggling to pull her skirt out from where it was caught under some ice. When they had both escaped the drifts and were standing on the edge of the Bolger's property, Estella began to unwind Merry's scarf from around her neck. "Take it with you," he said with a smirk, "you can dry it for me. Oh, and iron it while you're at it." Rolling her eyes, the lass smacked him across the face with the dripping thing.

"Do you want to come in to warm yourself?" she asked, desperately hoping that he'd say no. Uncle Alaric would be questioning her afterwards as to who he was what he was doing there; he had not seen Merry and vice versa. She had taken great pains to see that it was as such . . . she knew that her friend would immediately guess that something was up, especially after his behavior at the Yule celebration when her uncle had called for her. He had been so concerned then when she had begun to shake like that; Estella had reprimanded herself tens of times over for showing fear like that. _Yet,_ she told herself, _that night was the first of the trouble Uncle gave me._

"No," Meriadoc now answered, pulling the collar of his coat up over his neck to cover what missing scarf left bare, "I must be getting along to Widow Brownlock's to chop wood. But until then, your invitation still stands. I haven't been to your hole very often lately and I'd like to drop by some time."

"Wait!"

"What?"

Estella fumbled with her mitten strings, attempting to find words. "Um, well, if you want to come by . . . well, uh, could you write me first?" she inquired, her cheekbones flushed a low pink.

"Write you?"

"Aye."

Raising his eyebrows, Merry found, as always, it did not take much searching to see that something was a bit . . . off. He had always said that she reminded him so much of Frodo because of the way she wore her heart on her sleeve, particularly at the worst moments, he personally thought. "Is something wr . . ." he began. "No!" Estella quickly cut in, yet seeing her obviousness she continued with, "No, no, no, Merry m'lad! You're always so worried, silly!" She spoke lightly, but still felt Merry's blue eyes staying steadily on her, knowing that she was being ridiculous for even trying to convince him. "I'm telling the truth, Merry." She waveringly stated, pursing her lips into a tight line, afraid that if this continued another moment she was going to spill everything. The young Brandybuck only shook his head, pushing his hat to the back of his head.

"No, you're not. But goodbye for now, Essie."

"Goodbye, Merry."

With that, Estella managed a weak smile and turned to walk up what was left of the lane. Before she could get very far, though, her comrade called out, saying, "Estella, you know Doderic lives only around the bend if you should ever need him."

"Which I won't!" She answered back in a singsong voice without turning around. _That'd be like him,_ she thought, _telling me to go to Dod because he couldn't get here quick enough. So practical._ As Estella tramped up the front steps, shaking the snow off of her curls, she heard a clink on the stone below her. Stepping aside, she found that her crochet hook had fallen out of her bag, which had acquired a large hole in it. "Blast." She cursed, slipping the yarn and hook around her neck for safekeeping. There it collided with another item about her neck, making the loveliest tinkle. The lass stopped for a moment, pulling a long chain out of her bodice. She suspended the beautiful silver pendant before her face; letting the tiny tri jewels catch the light of the winter sun.

"_Perfect." _

"_Meriadoc, I couldn't, really, I'm much too simple for such a thing."_

"_Simple maybe, and rather rough, with too thick of eyebrows for one of your specimen."_

He had clasped it about her neck, and they were both glad that they had each other that day. Someone to share the day's burden's with. He had taken her to the top of the hill . . . Estella now stained her eyes across the brilliant snow-hills to the tallest one of them all, right behind the slue. For years after, they had met up there along with Pippin when he was around to dream the days away with adventures yet to be had. As only teenager hobbits can do. Now they were tweens, and the realization that coming of age was but a short way off, especially for Merry, made all of those memories seem miles away. It was time to bid the carefree days farewell now, and Estella intended to do it just then.

The lass began remembering back to the summer she and Merry had snuck into Bag End on a trip and poured over _Translations of the Elvish_, unfinished of course, and memorized many useful insults. Yet all Estella remembered was the word for farewell. Farewell in happiness. "Mariessië." She murmured to the hills before slipping the necklace back inside her bodice.

The door creaked as always as she inched it open, hoping to draw nobody's attention. Glancing about, she saw it hadn't, and breathed a sigh of relief as she shut the door. As soon as the loud _click_ was heard, muffled and uneven chuckles broke out from behind her. Whipping around, Estella saw with a chilling heart that her uncle had been standing behind the door the entire time. As he sauntered toward her, his tongue wetting his lips as he came, the lass made a firm thought in her mind; no matter what comes, this was for Father, for Mum, for Fatty, for Merry.

"I saw that lad out there with you . . . he looked like one of the Brandybucks." Alaric said coyly, as if he knew a smug little secret. "He's not a Brandybuck." Estella blurted out, impulsively shielding Merry. Her uncle looked emotionless until his hand shot out and grabbed her by the waist, drawing her close. Estella turned away; his breath smelt of brandy. He was pulling her closer, though, until his small beak nose was inches from hers. _Ugh,_ she thought as he chuckled, spewing out fumes. "Who is he, beautiful? Someone to 'help' you?" he asked as she squirmed. "He was the stable boy from Maggot's farm!" she got out breathlessly as she was pressed tighter and tighter, feeling her hair being pulled as he thought she was lying. "Don't lie to me." he hissed.

"I said he was the stable boy, uncle!"

"Dammit! Who was he, I said?"

Estella kept on repeating "stable boy" until she was dragged away down the hall and down to the cellar. Fatty wasn't there. Rosamunda was gone to lauder clothes. Odovacar was sick. The whimpers could be heard that night from the cellar where Alaric locked her after he was ready to wander to the local inn. Fredregar eventually found her when he arrived home. Nothing would Estella say. Only furrow her brows and clutch her necklace, hate etched deep in those amber eyes. Fatty's attempts to make her speak about what happened were futile; after hours of fruitless questioning he inspected her for injuries. A few deep bruises on her shins were all he found. He put cold rags on them, and eventually Estella muttered that he had shoved her once and she had collided with a bench. "Please just leave me be, Fatty. I'm tired." She said, collapsing on his bed, her eyes immediately drooping.

"Alright, Estella. But you must promise me that you'll tell about what happened tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes, Fatty."

"Good. Get some sleep, and try to dream happily."

As Fredregar laid down on the floor with a blanket, Estella clutched her elvish pendant with all of her might. She tried to think about everything good, everything she cared for. Budgeford, her home; her loyal Fatty; brave Merry. They comforted her until sleep found her.


End file.
